MudbloodSucker
by NightOfMine
Summary: You sometimes think that you know what is going to happen, but when it comes to that point you are faced with the most ridiculous possibilities. Things can seem unreasonable, yet there is something alluring about it. But a challenge often comes with pain. Bellatrix forces Hermione in situations she had never wanted to be in, still she lets herself be enchanted. Cover art by moi(Me)
1. Chapter One

Dear Reader,

Welcome! I hope you will enjoy your stay.

It is my first time that I post one of my stories online, but that does not mean I want you to be kind or gentle with me. Give your criticism at full blast! I just hope that you will enjoy my FanFiction and I hope that you could leave a review to let me know what you think. Because it becomes a drug once you know how it feels when receiving one.

I also want to give a **HUGE** **thanks** to my official Beta-reader **JoanIncarnate**! She gives criticism in a very detailed way, when I have questions she answers them truthfully and she is just a very kind person. So yeah, I am a very lucky person.

In this story there will be eventually a twisted relationship between Hermione and Bellatrix. I had difficulty deciding what to rate this story, so I rated it M just to be safe. Also there will be crude language, abuse and sexual closeness. However I will** not** write smut.

As for the rights, I am not the creator of the Harry Potter universe (unfortunately) and will never ever gain any coins or paper with writing this FanFic. So to be clear, I borrow these precious characters from J. Rowling. There will be things differently from the books, but that is obvious, otherwise it would not be a FanFic. And there is this fact: I will create objects, spells and charms, people and animals/creatures, I think you will see in time. Furthermore there are (the forgotten) people from the original Harry Potter story who I will give their own background stories. All in all, yes there will come changes.

Yours Sincerely,

NightOfMine.

* * *

When being bound back-to-back to other people and shoved around like a ball being passed between several people, it is very difficult to calculate if there would be a possible way to escape the threatening future. Even if they were not being pushed around, Hermione knew there was no escaping this scene, not with their wands confiscated.

As they reached the gates of Malfoy Manor, one of the Snatchers tried to open it without success; while spinning around with a questioning look on his face, the man was startled by a voice erupting from the cold metal asking why they had come. Greyback had likely lost his patience (if he ever had any), for he was now triumphantly roaring that they had captured Harry Potter.

The gates opened at once, without a single noise. Pushed towards the opening, the bound prisoners had little choice but to walk. One could smell the dread in the air between the five captives, a smell of cold sweat mixed with angst. Greyback howled with laughter at the sight, soon followed by the other Snatchers. The joyful adrenaline was likely rushing in full speed through their veins.

It had all happened way too fast.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had finally been making some progress in finding the next Horcux, when Ron had discovered the fitting password for Potterwatch. It had been a long time since the trio had heard from the older Weasley brothers. Not to forget Lupin, Kingsley and Lee Jordan. How nice it had been to hear familiar voices once again. Hermione had missed them so much and just hearing them made her feel somewhat serene - a happy sort of serene in this case. Only then had the brunette realized how lonely she had felt all those weeks without the people she held dear around her. Luckily, she had always had Harry beside her and, for the biggest part, Ron as well. Otherwise, she would have gone crazy from the isolation by now.

Because of the isolation it had felt as if they had been the only ones fighting against Voldemort, but after hearing from their old friends, those illusions had faded. The trio had missed a good laugh; it had felt as if some tension had slipped from their shoulders. Unfortunately, Harry had spoken out the name of You-Know-Who in all his excitement, the name which held a Taboo, meaning that Snatchers would inevitably turn up because somebody spoke out the name. And before they had been able to evacuate to a different place, they were surrounded by the Snatchers that now held them captive.

However, before the Snatcher had seen Harry, Hermione had been able to jinx him so that his face was deformed. With this she had hoped that he would not be recognizable. It had worked until those horrible men started inspecting their new captives and questioning them about who they are. Alas, Fenrir Greyback had recognized Harry by the now outstretched lightning bolt on his forehead. And after all the other Snatchers had taken their time to see the "weird shaped lightning bolt" for themselves (some still arguing if it was really Potter), they brought all the prisoners to Malfoy Manor: the hideout of Lord Voldemort.

As they walked over the road, they were engulfed by high hedges on both sides, blocking out the little light the moon shone. The group made their way to the big, haughty house. It seemed to mutter in disagreeing silence about the filth that was walking towards itself. Even the tall woman who stood in the doorpost was not trying to hide the disgust on her features. Whether the disgust was for the prisoners or the Snatchers, or maybe both, was not readable in her ice-cold eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy wanted a confirmation so Harry was roughly seized, making all the captives stumble after him, and was put into the stream of light that was pouring out of the slit from between the door and its post. After her examination, she led the way into the hallway.

The portraits too made sure to look as stiff as possible so that their staring eyes where the only part of their forms and faces that moved. Hermione saw, as soon as her eyes focused to the change in surroundings, that the portraits were divided in two groups; on the left wall, were the deceased family members with an air of charisma around them that made it impossible to miss their lurking eyes. The Muggle-born was shocked about how charismatic the family was, if only they would not be so sickeningly haughty. It was likely that the family had wanted to live up to their surname, because the backgrounds were formed with the most impressive blackish colors Hermione had ever seen. There were actually _different _sorts of black used in the paintings. On the other side of the hall, the right wall, was the whole Malfoy family hanging. It was obvious that the white-blonde hair Draco had proudly combed backwards all those years in Hogwarts had been in the family for centuries. Again, all the backgrounds appeared to be made from different shades of black, which caused their hair to look like weirdly shaped aureoles. It would have been funny, if they had not been in this situation.

Hermione took in a deep breath and held it imprisoned inside her lungs for a few seconds, then slowly let it escape afterwards. She wanted to talk with Harry and Ron, but she knew better so she kept her mouth shut.

As they were pushed into a room, the young prisoners were welcomed by a pair that looked much alike: Draco and Lucius Malfoy. The youngest Malfoy could be mistaken as a younger version of Lucius, if he had not inherited his eyes and lips from his mother. Narcissa Malfoy now joined her little family by the fire, standing beside her son as if to make sure everybody in the room knew that she would defend him with her life.

Fenrir Greyback roughly spun the group around so that Harry faced the three Malfoys. While facing the left side of the room, Hermione heard their whole conversation, only to be forcefully grasped herself moments later as the trophy Fenrir could show at the Malfoy's. Her presence proved his statement that the boy with the puffy, stung-like face _was_ Harry Potter. Hermione stayed silent as she was faced with Draco but she could not suppress the surprise that came when she saw his scared face, while he avoided eye contact as if his life depended upon it.

Lucius on the other hand was in a gleeful mood, his eyes roaming over all their prisoners. Probably hoping to find more evidence that would ensure him that it was indeed Harry Potter who stood in their midst, bound with his hands on his back and unable to escape. "But then, that's the Weasley boy!" Lucius Malfoy sounded awfully happy in Hermione's ears. She let her gaze falter, now looking at the grey stones under their feet.

That moment, a door opened in the room. However it went unnoticed by the brunette, for panic was taking over her body and made it impossible for her to stop shaking. Only when her name was spoken did Hermione look up, to be faced with the most feared Muggle-hater. And just like that an invisible hand closed around her throat, causing Hermione to choke. The corners of Bellatrix's mouth turning slightly upwards, her eyes glaring as if hoping to create holes on Hermione's face. She felt like a little girl; frozen in fear and not knowing what she might have done wrong.

Then she felt something gripping her fingers- just two fingertips that tried to caress her own. The skin was rough and the nails were kept short: Ron. This act alone made hope and love bloom inside the brunette. A whimper was the only sign she let herself give away, knowing that most people would think that it was a sign of fear for the Death Eater with the black mane. _Would Ron know better? _His fingertips squeezed hers gently. _Yes._

Lucius interjected the momentary bliss, his announcement about having Harry Potter in their midst made Bellatrix back away in surprise so that she was no longer staring at the Muggle-born. What would happen now that this murderer knew that Harry Potter was standing beside her? The female Death Eater had only needed a second to drag her left sleeve back, revealing the Dark Mark. She was about to touch the dark tattoo to summon Voldemort when, yet again, Lucius interjected the process. They began to struggle about who had the _authority_ to call for their Master. If time had not made sure that these two figures were marked by the past, one could almost say that these were not adults but children fighting about who would get the biggest Chocolate Frog. Narcissa had an irritated look on her face and was about to make them stop when it all stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The raven haired woman had seen something that made her stiffen at once.

A loud and cold "STOP" let everybody know there was something wrong. Even Lucius dared not to touch his own Mark, his finger hovering merely an inch above it. Bellatrix had her eyes fixed upon something the trio could not see. Hermione dreaded what came next and it was likely that she was not the only one. The female Death Eater made her way towards the culprit, but the brunette refused to follow the figure any longer with her eyes, instead focusing her eyes upon the fire. It was only when Narcissa was contradicting her sister about who was the owner of this house that Hermione turned her attention back on the situation.

To Hermione's horror, Bellatrix was now standing with the Sword of Gryffindor in her left hand.

The raven haired woman stood face to face with her younger sister, both with a straight face. Glaring at each other. In the silence that had engulved the group the air seemed to drop a few degrees. Shivers found their way down Hermione's back. In the end it was Narcissa who budged under the pressure of Bellatrix' glare. However when the blonde sister ordered the prisoners to be taken to the cellar, Bellatrix had one more request.

"All except... except for the Mudblood."

A twisted grin found its way onto Bellatrix' lips. The werewolf approved as well, that much was obvious. Ron, on the other hand, protested loudly; he wanted to trade himself for Hermione. It was so sweet, but it was also hopeless. Bellatrix had set her mind on the brunette. The Mudblood.. And the worst part for Hermione was that she could do nothing to defend herself.

Bellatrix's disapproval of Ron's behavior followed in the form of her fist. The smack echoed through the drawing-room. Ron was momentarily dazed, blood dripped on the floor. A silver knife appeared from under Bellatrix' dress robes and she held it firmly in her hand. In a reflex Hermione stepped away from the grabbing hand, but the ropes kept her in her place. Her brown curls were roughly grabbed the moment she was cut free from the other prisoners. As she was thrown in the middle of the room, her head hit the hard floor. She kept the pain from escaping past her lips, silently swearing to herself that she would not let that damned woman get what she wanted. _The truth_.

The raven haired woman was frighteningly quiet. The only sound made was her heels meeting the stone floor. It did not surprise Hermione that the Death Eater acted like this. It always gave the captor a feeling of power when they could tower above their victims and circle around them; it underlined the fact that it was _their_ decision if the victim would live or die.

"Frightened" would be an understatement of how Hermione felt at this moment. She tried to steady herself by slowly sitting up, afraid that every move she made could to trigger bloodlust inside the Death Eater facing her.

The female Death Eater stood still while pointing at the silver weapon which stood against the wall. The only sound that could be heard was a soft whisper: "How did you get this sword?"

Hermione felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck, frozen and basically waiting to be hit. Her eyes were wide and fear was plastered all over her face. She was scared for what was to come, but the hit did not come. Sure, an aura of danger was fusing all over the female Death Eater in front of her, but no more than a hiss came from Bellatrix as she was still waiting for an answer.

It was obvious that the raiven haired woman held no fear of being overpowered by the Muggle-born sitting before her, for she came closer and spoke the question again. This time it was no whisper, nor a shout. Just a normal question. Still the only thing that manifested itself insides Hermione's head was, _What is going on in her mind?_ Not opening her mouth to give an answer.

The first Cruciatus Curse was shot and Hermione crumpled to the floor. Screams so loud came flowing out of her, from the deepest part in her body, echoing everywhere. In the room, in her own head... It was as if she were being pierced by white hot knives while every inch of her body was coffered by boiling oil. Her skull seemed to tighten around her brain, or was it her brain that was swelling from the pain with every passing second?! She did not know, grabbing her head was all she could do. Trying to keep it all together as best as she could. Then the curse was lifted. With a thud, the shivering body of the brunette slumped on the floor.

Bellatrix did not let the pause endure for long. Hermione's jaw was roughly captured by the claws of the female Death Eater, her nails digging painfully in the skin from the brunette. No longer was the raven haired woman able to contain her anger.

"You do not deserve anything better," dark onyx eyes frighteningly wide, "where did you find the sword?"

Hermione looked up, wanting to scream insults to the woman in front of her, to push her away, but the pain in her own body was narcotic. "I do not know, we just found it", she said softly while repeating to herself that she would _never _tell the truth.

Bellatrix let go of her face roughly, turning her back towards the Muggle-born, only to force all her strength in her kick as she twirled around to deliver it at Hermione's thigh. "Don't you dare lie to me! Where?!"

Hermione flinched and wrapped her arms around her head, knowing that there was more pain to come. "Please, I do not know!" The Unforgivable curse hit her body again and the screams where dragged out of her lungs once more, forcing her vocal chords in tones they never before had to reach. Bellatrix cackled and screamed insults in a delighted voice. When the pain stopped there was a short silence in which Hermione tried to regain her breath. Cold sweat was all over her body and her sight blurred.

Suddenly, a heel prodded painfully on Hermione's ribs, trying to force its way between the bones. Pleading was the only thing the younger witch could do. However, at some point, her voice cracked into sobbing murmurs.

"You filthy girl. Tell me where you found the sword! You are playing with my patience and I can tell you, there is not much left! Tell me!" The shrieks from the Death Eater seemed dangerously close and with every word, the heel was given more strength by its owner. With all her might, Hermione forced pleading words over her lips, but after every plea for mercy Bellatrix's face constricted in even more disgust. "I'm not going to ask again! Where did you get this sword? Where?!"

"We found it – we found it -" more pressure, her ribs were about to break, her eyes widened in panic, "PLEASE!"

CRACK!

Screams engulfed the whole room. The girl was on the verge of losing her conscious when another pain caused her body to twist in every direction. With every move, the burning pain in her torso got worse. Hermione had to try and lay as still as possible. Raven curls swept across the room as the female Deat Eater danced around in it, as if the Muggle-born's screams were the rhythm. Screaming insults to everyone and no one. Hermione was not aware of this, since all her senses were already filled with pain. For the brunette it felt as if it were days that had gone by when the curse was lifted. At once, Hermione stirred, trying to hide her face behind her hands. They were shaking. Her whole body was shaking.

A soft voice spoke, frighteningly sweet and completely in contrast to the person in question. "Filthy, little thing. You are stupid for not telling me the truth... WHERE DID YOU FIND THE SWORD?!"

The only responses Bellatrix got from the brunette were more shudders and soft "I don't knows."

Patient was now in the minus. The female Death Eater raised her voice enough for it to resound off the walls, "You are _lying_, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my fault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!" Another Crucio was shot and more screams followed. "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with my knife!" The blade knife blinked in the light of the fire as it was dangerously hovering above Hermione's face.

A hoarse sound was the first thing to come between the huffs. Breathing was now a torture itself. Only after some tries could Hermione get the words "found it" to roll off her tongue.

A disbelieving sneer crossed Bellatrix's face. She raised her hand in the air and slapped Hermione across the face with such force that the Muggle-born's lip cracked. A metallic taste slowly found its way to her taste buds: blood.

The shrill voice of the woman before her pierced the silence in the room, "Cissy, would you like some slices of Mudblood, to feed to your poor excuse of a husband?" A low cackle erupted out of Bellatrix.

There was some noise in the back of the room, by the fire, but Hermione did not care to look around. She just lay there, scared to death and aware of the horrible situation she was in. With all the pain roaring through her body, she could do little. She was exhausted and breathing became more and more of a difficulty.

The raven haired witch flicked her wand and suddenly, there was something that bound itself around Hermione's wrist. She looked and saw how a now living carpet tried to devour her right arm, beginning with her underarm. Yet another flick of Bellatrix' wand made the living carpet stir. _A nonverbal Stupefy, _Hermione thought. More pressure followed, this time on Hermione's left wrist. It was Bellatrix who pressed the heel of her boot upon it, likely not caring if she also broke it.

New panic engulfed the Muggle-born. _Why_ did the Death Eater want her to be bound?! She tried to wrestle against the things that held her in place but a burning pain by her lungs forced her to lay still. Never had the brunette felt this pathetic. She could do _nothing._ Desperate wishes came invading her head out of nowhere, about how she wanted to be with Harry and Ron. To be back in the tent, having an argument about what the next step should be to find the other Horcruxes. Unfortunately her wishes did not make any difference; Hermione was still in the same room. Still being forced to lie on the floor.

"Oh, stop crying, filthy Mudblood! I am only going to make you prettier."

Bellatrix watched Hermione as she lay there, shuddering with fear. Her facial expression did not betrayed a single emotion. The brunette thought she would go crazy, _what is she planning?!_ Suddenly the raven haired woman let herself fall on the ground, forcing Hermione's arm on the ground with her right hand. Her nails dug deep into the flesh of the younger one. "How unfortunate," she said in a mocking voice. "It seems that I have to do the carving with my left hand... Not my best hand with a knife... Please, don't be sad if I mess up." The sick smile made Hermione go mad from the mortal fear she was in.

When the blade made contact with Hermione's skin, she choked on the air she inhaled. Screams engulfed the room in all its glory. It was a different pain than that of the Cruciatus Curse. Hermione had been cut before, but those had only been tiny slices from the pages of a book, random paper, or when she had fallen when she was little or when she had just been clumsy. This, however, was a pain that did not resemble those paper cuts or bruises. It was as if this pain concentrated to cause utmost pain on one spot at a time, but with each slice the blade made, it left a throbbing and bleeding wound. Flesh was left open and unprotected. She tried to wrestle her arm out of Bellatrix' grip, but it was to no avail. The Death Eater did not even seem to notice, enjoying the moment and slicing her knife in the Mudblood's underarm. Warm liquid found its way to the carpet, flowing in a steady and slow way from the fresh cuts.

Never had the Muggle-born felt so forlorn. In her miserable state, the sobs were of no surprise and the tears were almost welcomed with a smile, for she could try and put all her hope in those hateful salty water drops. Maybe the hope to live would fade away as well. Ron's cries however, kept her aware of the situation she was in; his loud voice coming from downstairs was a hollow muffled sound, but she heard it nonetheless. Somehow cursing her with the will to life, even in this situation.

When Bellatrix was done, she sprung to her feet - the combination of panic and rage roaring its horrible head again now that she had nothing to entertain herself with. The furniture had become the Death Eater's second culprit; she kicked and hurled everything within reach around the room.

Spinning around, breast heaving up and down, she demanded in desperation, "What else did you take, what else?! ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!" And back came the white-hot knifes, piercing every inch of Hermione's body. As the curse was lifted, silence fell once more, the inhuman screams only echoing inside Hermione's own head.

On her right arm, the carpet had come alive again with newfound hunger for her arm. To Hermione's relief, the raven haired witch interrupted yet again its proceedings. Bellatrix kicked its beak shaped form away from Hermione's arm, who embraced herself in a faint attempt of protecting herself from further harm, and produced a counter-charm to end the carpet's artificial existence. The tips of Bellatrix's shoes turned towards the Muggle-born and its shadow minimized as the figure bent over, whispering questions like "where did you find the sword" or 'did you take anything else from her vault".

The brunette shivered on the floor, too scared to look the female Death Eater in the eyes.

Whispers turned steadily in a hissed voice and again Bellatrix took a handful of brown curls. Hermione's head was lifted from the floor and forced to look the woman in the eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. The other hand of Bellatrix made its way to her cheek, softly stroking her skin, but it was not long before Bellatrix' cares turned into a painful scratch. She let her nails dig in Hermione's flesh and let them find their way around Hermione's throat, ready to strangle the brunette.

"How did you get into my fault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?" For a moment, the fingers tightened dangerously around Hermione's throat, and her lungs begged for more air immediately. Like a warning.

"But we.." the younger woman began, her body trembling. She screamed the sentence as she felt how the grip around her throat tightened, "We only met him tonight!"

_I need an explanation_; and as if she had been prepared all along, Hermione's brain began plotting a lie at once. The brunette inhaled as much air as possible to steady herself and forced her voice to stop quivering. She was exhausted but the lie came smoothly.

"We've never been inside your vault..." Panic rose when Bellatrix's fingers tightened again and made the brunette scream the last part of her explanation. "It isn't the real sword! It's just a copy, just a copy!"

Bellatrix eyes widened dangerously, "A copy? Oh, a likely story!"

Lucius did, as usual, not agree with Bellatrix and shouted in a hopeful voice that they could always check by asking the goblin himself if the sword against the wall was a replica. He sent his son to fetch the little creature imprisoned in the cellar with the rest.

Bellatrix glared at Lucius, not liking at all that he had taken control of the situation. Hermione gasped for air as the raven haired woman let go of her throat. The female Death Eater stood up, still holding the brunette by her brown curls and heaved her a little higher from the ground. The raven haired woman hissed that there was more pain to come and with that, she threw Hermione onto the floor. The girl hit her head on the hard floor and as result lost her consciousness.

For Hermione it seemed as if there had not passed a single second as she woke up when a horrible pain settled itself inside her body, accompanied by questions asked by Bellatrix that were not even directed at her. _Why am I being punished?! _The brunette tried to voice this desperate question out in her inhuman screams, but as her vocal cords had never been abused like this before, there came no questions. Just her screams.

The white-hot knifes were gone the moment the female Death Eater flicked her wand and the brunette was left stirring on the floor. Her erratic breathing made her feel light headed, but inhaling too deeply caused her ribs chase to protest. Broken bones are able to do a lot of damage to organs in general, but broken ribs were a lot more dangerous; one wrong move and she could rip her lung open. And she wanted to avoid a punctured lung at all costs. It was a real wonder that it had not yet happened.

Time slipped through the invisible fingers of Hermione's mind and for the biggest part, she was not aware of what was happening, but at some point she saw the silhouette of a small goblin being questioned by Bellatrix and tortured as well: Griphook.

She did not want to, but yet again screams were dragged out of her lungs as the Cruciatus Curse hit her body. All she could do was twist in pain, trying her best to hold everything together. What would happen once she lost the fight? Would she be aware of it? _What am I supposed to do?! _Hermione was nearing her breaking point, she tried to find the hope she needed to survive, but it was getting harder every time the curse made contact with her body. _How could somebody enjoy forcing other beings through this pain?! _It was the only thing Hermione could think of once it had entered her mind. What would the next question be?

Griphook was the reason that the curse was lifted this time, for he spoke for the first time since he had entered this room. Some precious, painless minutes went by as Hermione lay on the floor. She tried to think about something happy, making images of Harry and Ron flying inside her head.

The curse slashed through the pictures, making her forget about them that same moment as if they had never haunted her mind. Not once this night had she looked at Bellatrix while her body was in the bounding pain of the Cruciatus Curse, but now her eyes shot open, finding those of her torturer's immediately and not once did she waver. She wanted Bellatrix to see the pain she was in, even if she knew that it would not make any difference. The haughty witch savored the moments she got to make others suffer. Even so, there had to be some part in her that was still able to feel for others... right?

The Muggle-born could not have been more wrong.

First it had been a low growl but in the end it had become a one of Bellatrix's maddening cackles. Hermione felt humiliated and could not keep the tears from gaining their forms. When Bellatrix was done having her fun, she ended the routine again, saving all her concentration for the other victim.

It had taken the raven haired woman a few more minutes of torture before the Goblin gave the answer Bellatrix longed to hear. However, Griphook affirmed Hermione's story, making all the Death Eaters in the room believe that the sword held by the Goblin was indeed fake.

Every little cell in Hermione's body seemed to throb in pain. It was all too much to take for the Muggle-born. The last thing she saw before everything went black was how Bellatrix touched her Dark Mark, with Lucius watching the action progress with a gleeful smile on his face.


	2. Chapter Two

Dear Readers,

I was literally flabbergasted by all the support.. Honestly I had never dared to hope that there would be so much people who would review, fav and follow this story. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, I really do!

To my horror I had forgotten to mention an important fact in the previous foreword. So here it comes now! This story is based on the books *Le gasp*

I do have a question for you readers. What is your opinion about the interacting between Hermione and the others? Especially Harry and Ron. Does it seem as if they are too winy/devoted towards each other?

Oh and the cover art is made by moi! Is it a spoiler you ask? Well, time will tell, right? Hohoho!

Please keep in mind that I love criticism, I can learn from it.

I really hope that you will like this chapter too. I did my best, so enjoy!

Yours Sincerely,

NightOfMine.

* * *

Bouncing between multiple weird colored webs. Being in nothing yet everything at the same time. Everything twisting and swaying constantly as if you are on a ship, a very small one, trying to navigate through a hurricane. The nausea making you hurl...

Without a single thought Hermione pushed herself up to throw up over the edge of what seemed to be a bed. She briefly noted a pair of hands holding back her hair out of her face. After the last retch, the brunette let her face rest on the mattress. She stirred. Her body seemed as if it did not belong to her, for there was a strange combination of numbness and a burning pain that had spread itself in every part of her body.

The Muggle-born did not need any time to remember what had happened to her. The only riddle was how she had managed to get away from the Malfoy Manor. And even more importantly, where were Harry and Ron?! Hermione wanted to vocalize these questions but someone was already ahead of her. The owner of the hands that had kept her hair out of her face now spoke softly.

"Ronald and 'Arry are save. And your other friends are also 'ere. Please 'Ermione, it would be best for you if you would lay down on your back." The brunette did as she was ordered, recognizing the French accent easily. The quarter Veela was as beautiful as always, her silver blonde hair tied in a messy bun.

"Fleur, what for injuries do I have?" For once, Hermione would rather not know the answers but considering how it was her own body, she had little choice.

"Your whole body seems to be covered in bruises. And your muscles and bones are also pretty run down. It is as if you body is in a state of shock. I am curious about ze amount of curses zat 'it your body... Because I can only zink of one curse zat could cause zese effects, ze Crusiatus Cruse. Ze intensity of your attacker's 'ate and anger.. Ze curses must 'ave been 'orrible. Zey probably also left internal injuries, but I am afraid zat I am not experienced enough to heal those except for ze broken rib. Luckily zere _is_ somezing I can do about ze minor pains and bruises." she stated. "It is obvious you went zrough 'Ell because of zat _imbécile_! Please tell me what 'as 'appened? Who did zis to you? Ze boyz won't say a zing."

Images of Bellatrix began to dance before Hermione's eyes. Closing her eyes she took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the quiver of her parted lips.

"But.." Fleur began again, "Zere is something else, I really have no idea what for curse is used. 'Ermione, I am so sorry.." The brunette did not need any more information. With her right hand she stroked the bandage which was bounded around her left underarm. "Scared for life, huh?" her tone was flat, "Well it could have been worse, I guess."

The quarter Veela could not stand the helpless look Hermione had gotten in her eyes so she took Hermione's hands in hers, looking at them as if they held all the secrets on this goddamned world. "Who did this to you, _ma cherie_? What has happened?" Her heart reached for her younger companion, but she doubted that the girl in question registered it all.

_How did we escape? _The question was merely formed, but the Muggle-born would not listen to anything else. She needed to know the answer. Her curiosity made her forget her manners and instead of answering the question, she asked how they had arrived here. While she knew that Fleur would not know anything about Malfoy Manor, she could probably provide the brunette with enough information to still her hunger for answers, at least for now.

The blonde witch hesitated before she spoke, deciding that she would not yet tell Hermione of Dobby's death. Hermione had just woken up, it would be unreasonable. She tried to answer the question to the best of her ability, only leaving the dead-house-elf-part unspoken.

At the end of the story, Fleur was occupying herself with the last remaining bruises. There fell a silence in which Hermione was again visited with the nausea from earlier. Fleur noticed this and apologized that she could do little against it, seeing as how she did not have the required herbs for the potion. She planned to brew it as soon as she had the equipment.

When Fleur disappeared through the door, Hermione let her eyes roam through the room. It was a small room and the bed she lay on stood in the corner farthest from the door. There stood a small bookcase in the corner opposite of Hermione's. And next to her bed there was a small bedside table. Not to forget the chair that Fleur had sit on. The curtains were closed, but as they swayed in the wind the Muggle-born caught glimpses from the outside world. Now that she listened to her surroundings, the brunette heard seagulls produce their delighted greetings while the sea rolled on and off in the distance like a slow and steady growl. As Hermione laid there, her mind began to wander. And she detected the presence of a calming potions in her veins. It made her feel as if there was something constantly suppressing her feelings. _Probably for my body, so it is easier to return to its normal condition._ Sighing, she sat up, grinding her teeth as pain shot through every fiber, leaving a new found burning by her ribs.

With every little movement she had made, the old mattress springs seemed to practically scream and huff in agony.

A creak that was certainly not from the bed announced the presence of another person in the room. Hermione looked away from the closed curtains and saw the profile of Ronald approaching her. While smiling at him, she took his hand in hers. Both kept silent, but neither was deep in thought.

"We probably look like an old married couple this way." To Hermione's relief, Ron smiled at the awkward joke. His voice was rougher than normal as he spoke, "I.. am so bloody happy that you are still here."

Even with the calming potion suppressing her feelings, Hermione's heart blossomed at his words. While at the same time there crept an unfamiliar feeling between them, or was it only Hermione who felt its presence? Instead of responding to him she changed the subject to their mutual friend, "Where's Harry?"

He seemed hurt at her actions. "He's in the garden, digging."

"Digging?.. What do you mean d - Oh, no! Ron, who? What happened?! Tell me!" A hysterical panic tried to rise inside her, only partially succeeding. Swinging her legs from the bed she was about to stand up when Fleur rushed inside, forcing her to lay down on the bed. Ron just looked at her, sadness being the only emotion that held his eyes now.

"Do not say anything! I told you not to go to 'er!" Fleur snapped at Ronald, " 'Ermione. Do as I say, do not move an inch. Otherwise I will be forced to stun you. You 'ave a broken rib for Merlin's sake!" Yet Fleur knew better than to wait a second longer and took out a little bottle of Sleeping Draught out of her pocket. The blonde held Hermione's jaw firmly and before the younger witch could protest, she was already dozing off into a deep sleep.

Silence. Yet again with the silence. Since they came here, all there seemed to be was silence. Ron was beginning to hate the silence.

He watched as Fleur laid Hermione's head on the cushion. "I'm sorry," was all that he could mumble.

"Yes, you should be," was the sharp answer. "But.. I understand. Just make sure zat she will not make too sudden movements when she wakes up. I 'ave send William to ze nearest village. We know an older witch who lives zere and hopefully she 'as some Skele-Gro and other herbs I need."

The boy nodded, wondering if his older brother was already on his way back.

And there it was _again_.. the _silence_.

Ron awkwardly stood there, just watching. He did not really know what to do, if he was supposed to help or to back off. Ron was still deciding on what he could do best when Fleur took the clothes she had thrown on the ground in her haste to reach for Hermione. A sudden panic made him race for the door. murmuring an excuse when he was already halfway to the stairs, telling the quarter Veela that he would be out, looking for his brother.

The wind here was rough and wild. It was a big difference from the wind from the woods and meadows because here it had a free game. It could take the smallest sand grains up in the air and torture its guests. If they _tried _to enjoy a stroll beside the ocean, they could not even see, thanks to all the bloody sand grains flying in their eyes!

While grumbling at everything that was against him in life, the redhead strolled to the backyard where he could find Harry and Dean. Standing beside the tall, dark skinned wizard, he watched Harry dig the grave. Fortunately, Harry broke the silence first, in the form of a question.

"How's Hermione?"

"Better. Fleur's looking after her."

Taking the spades next to the grave, both Dean and Ron jumped into the hole to help their friend. Even though none of them spoke, Ron did not mind it anymore. He just concentrated on putting his angst, anger and despair in each shovel, to drain the last of his body's energy away.

* * *

Hermione wrapped Fleur's dressing gown closer for warmth as she stepped outside. The quarter Veela supported the brunette, as if she were disabled, leaving Hermione feeling self conscious and stupid. Yet she knew that she needed the help. And if she was honest with herself, she even _felt_ like an old hag.

The worst of the pain from the Skele-Gro potion had gone by, by the time the two made their way downstairs. Now, however, she struggled with a heavy headache coming up, accompanied by dizziness. Apparently even walking was too much to ask of her body. Fleur had warned her of it, but stubbornness was a known personal trait of the brunette and not even Bellatrix's "treatment" could change that.

Everyone stood around the grave. Time stood still in their little circle, only the birds and sea was heard. The one they were about to give back to the Earth was held by Harry. Tears welled up in her eyes when Hermione saw the body of the little house-elf. _It is so unfair_. He had risked his life for them.. and it was brutally taken. She did not know the story yet, but it was obvious that they were safe thanks to him. It was ridiculous that he had known where they had been, but there was a reason for it. He was and always would be the bravest house-elf the world could know. Dobby, the bravest house-elf who knew what freedom was like.

With the help of Luna and Dean, Harry was able to let it seem as if Dobby was in a peaceful sleep. His own timeless sleep.

It was the first time Hermione saw Harry since the first time she had woken up inside Shell Cottage. He looked as if the whole world was against him and all he was trying to do was hold onto the last string connecting him with the ones he held precious. She wanted to drag the boy in her arms and hold him tight, to let his sobs complete her tears. Yet she did not dare doing so, afraid of his response. The Muggle-born was not sure if he would be grateful or if he preferred to be left alone. Harry could be so hard to understand at times, even though he was the one she understood most.

As Luna spoke her thoughtful words, Hermione could not hold back her sobs. With one hand she pulled the gown even closer to her body and with the other, she covered her eyes. She felt how Ron squeezed her shoulder softly, as a comforting gesture. This was not how she had wanted to salute the house-elf, but her dams seemed to have broken under all the pressure, letting what seemed to be all the water in her body stream down her cheeks. As if she had not cried enough already.

Another arm snuggled itself around Hermione's waist. This one was slender; feminine. The complete opposite of the arm that had already been draped around her shoulders. It was a sign of comfort, one Hermione desperately craved.

On Hermione's left, Ron followed with giving Dobby his thanks, which was echoed by the two other boys. Bill and Fleur stood in silence, both looking at the little body with great respect. They did not know what had happened, only that this elf had done great things and that was enough for them. The questions they had could be voiced later.

The grave was magically filled, as if there had never been a hole in the first place. Hermione's last tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched Harry's profile. Even with his back turned to her, she saw his desperate need to be alone. So when she felt the female arm tug lightly at her, she followed suit and allowed herself to be led back upstairs. As Hermione laid down, she felt how the French woman stroked her brown curls behind her ear.

"I feel like a small child," came her soft statement.

"Everyone 'as 'is or 'er vulnerable moments, 'Ermione," Fleur responded truthfully. "You are no exception. Now, it iz early in the morning, dawn will come soon. Try to sleep. Your body needs its rest."

Hermione's mind was becoming hazy. Fleur was right and she knew it, but she was scared to close her eyes. What would happen - what would she _relive_ - when sleep would take over?

Fortunately the Quarter Veela was not stupid. She pulled out the bottle with the sleeping potion and dripped some into a glass of water. "_Bien nuit_," she said as Hermione drank the liquid.

Darkness engulfed the brunette and she fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

At first, it did not make much difference whether her eyes were closed or open. Only after a few minutes did Hermione become familiar with her surroundings, now being able to see the silhouettes of the furniture. Her body was stiff, yet the sleep had done her body good, for the only response her body gave when she sat up were some small coughs.

Hermione tried to be as still as possible, but she could not prevent the wooden floor from creaking when she made her way to her belongings lying on the chair. She felt all the pockets in her clothes, but she did not find what she searched for. A painful pang went through her being when she realized that she no longer had a wand, having lost it to the Snatchers. _Those horrible, foul monsters!_

While going downstairs, she berated the men for everything that was ugly and nasty, her feelings finally being able to triumph over the potion Fleur had given her a few hours ago. Or had she been sleeping for longer than that? A clock would be able to give her an answer. But did Bill and Fleur actually have a clock?

The brunette stepped into the kitchen and begun her quest at once. Her top priority was finding something edible, for her stomach had been grumbling since she had woken up. After opening and closing most of the cupboards, Hermione had found herself four slices of bread. Contently eating the somewhat old bread, she twirled around, only to be scared enough to drop two slices on the ground.

Harry had probably been standing there for a long time. With a smile on his lips he watched a now slightly irritated Hermione pick up her precious fallen slices of bread. "Welcome back to the world of the living," he murmured. "You've slept for nearly a day."

"Thank you for the welcoming party, Harry." Hermione could not help the sarcasm that was dripping from her words. She looked at the boy standing in front of her. He looked tired, probably had not slept a single hour since their arrival. The brunette sighed. What was Harry thinking?

The second slice had become the victim of the Muggle-borns' mouth. She offered her best friend a slice as well. His eyebrows disappeared under his hair, but he accepted the gift nonetheless. Both observed the other as they took a bite.

"What will our next step be?" She asked nonchalantly. "It is obvious you have not slept because of it."

The smile returned to his lips as he answered her question, "I want to talk to Griphook and Olivander. When Bellatrix tortured you, she gave us some valid information."

Hermione was surprised to hear the name of the old wand maker but nodded and she finished his sentence. "Without being aware of it, she told us that there are more Horcruxes inside her fault."

"And Griphook is going to help us get there."

"You do realize that we are talking about a Goblin, right?"

He nodded but stayed silent, likely pondering the same problem Hermione had just spoken aloud.

After the brunette had finished the last slice of bread, she asked, "How did Dobby die? You were covered in his blood..."

Bright green eyes found brown ones. He did not like the topic she had chosen, his eyes had gotten a fierce sort of gloominess. Fortunately, understanding soon followed; he understood her need for answers. The hand that had been in his pocket now came into sight with a silver object enclosed by his fingers.

Hermione's eyes went wide in fear when she saw how Bellatrix's knife glistened in the light that flooded through the kitchen window. The curly decoration upon it gave Hermione the chills, curls were things she automatically indicated with softness and innocence. This object, on the other hand, gave the curly decoration an ominous shadow. With this thing Bellatrix had _carved_ in her arm. Even worse.. With this thing she had killed Dobby. Hermione picked it up with trembling fingers, observing the silver instrument. The light played with the shadows, with every twist and turn there was something new to be seen on the object.

Harry broke in her train of thought. "Dawn will come in an hour. Sleep isn't really an option. Let's wake Ron and go for a walk?"

* * *

As the trio walked, the wind could not help itself but play with their hair. For an outsider, it would be funny to see. Three different colored fires dancing around in the air: red, black, brown. However, it was not only the wind that greeted them this early in the morning, for the first songs could be heard. They were songs long and short, yet all beautiful in their own ways. Hermione had been able to recognize a blackbird's song as well as the song of a Wren. Furthermore, there were the less beautiful screams of seagulls...

"I don't know if it is just me but.. It seems as if you are becoming stiffer with every passing hour, 'Mione," Ron remarked as they made their way to the top of a dune. It had been a while since they had left the cottage, maybe already halfway through the morning?

"Jeez, you are flattering me, Ronald." A roll of her eyes accompanied her words, "Why are you complementing me this early in the morning?"

"Well, he has a point, Hermione," said Harry, deliberately interrupting the start of an argument.

The boys were right. Hermione was forced to acknowledge that. Ever since they had started their morning walk, she had found it more and more difficult to breathe. At first she thought that it was only her imagination, but as they walked further along, there had come more small pains. Her head had become heavy, at some point there had nestled a prickling sensation in her chest and her balance felt a bit off. As an automatism she had thrown her better judgement away, she did not want to be the weakest. All she wanted was to be around the boys and have fun with them, for as long as they were granted anyway. Until now, Hermione had been too hard-headed to give in to her pains. Even now, the option to just keep on walking was something she was willing to choose. Yet she could not set a step further, for a hand had grabbed her by the arm and stopped her.

When she looked at Ron with disbelief and annoyance on her face, she saw his concern and bit her sharp tongue. She swallowed the words she had wanted to throw at her best friends and instead sighed. There was no point in pretending that she felt fine. They had known her for long enough and, to be honest, even a complete stranger could tell that she did not feel fine in the slightest. The Muggle-born ran a hand through her hair and asked – as if giving up - what the boys wanted to do.

"Let's take a break," the red head suggested. "I am quite tired, actually."

Harry nodded and began to look around. He pointed towards an old tree big enough to grant its visitors a shady place.

Ron laid down, clearly exhausted from the long walk. Hermione sat down next to him, prodding his belly. He laughed, looked up at her and took her hand in his, then closed his eyes again; ready for a quick nap. The brunette did not have to wait for long, his breathing had become slow and steady within a few minutes.

This morning, with the sun as their guide, they had walked for hours already. It had to be nearly noon. "Any idea how late it is, Harry?" Getting a shrug in response.

At least now Hermione knew how they had been able to escape. The boys had finally been able to tell her the story, without the others around to eavesdrop. Dobby... such a brave little elf he had been. He had helped them without any doubts or questions, something few would have done. She wanted to do something for him, to honor him, but what? Thinking about this made her sad and a rock formed itself inside her throat. _What would have happened if he had not arrived in time? _

Something rustled above them and to Hermione's surprise, she saw Harry sitting on a branch. Overlooking the area, as content as a little kitten. She wanted to tell him to watch out, but on the other hand, she did not want to be a joykill either.

Instead she began to hum the melody she had heard Luna sing several times. The first time had been when they had still been in Hogwarts, one of the times that Luna had eaten breakfast with the Gryffindors. She had asked the blonde were the melody came from, only getting a sly smile in response. From then on Hermione would hum the song whenever she was nervous or scared.

* * *

As soon as Ron had woken up, they began their walk back towards the cottage. Harry and Hermione had been able to think of a path that would bring them faster to their goal. The redhead had protested at first, afraid that they would get lost, but at the end, he gave in. They continued their way back a little crossly. Only when Harry began to talk about some new Quidditch moves he had in mind brightened the mood. Hermione was not really interested in the topic, but sometimes she took the chance to spice up the talk by giving some critiques. However the boys often shooed her words away, saying that she did not know what she was talking about, leaving her to just shrug and listen to the birds instead.

While the day went on hunger started to gnaw at the trio. Harry and Ron had tried to find something edible but came back with empty hands. Not only that, but Hermione's pains from earlier had come back at full speed and actually doubled its force.

Every single muscle in her body was aching. The pain was awfully similar to the Cruciatus Curse, only the pain was less intense and there was no hatred and anger firing it up. This alone made her shiver from time to time. Her headache, too, had become more prominent. Not to mention the fact that the prickling sensation had turned into a dagger that was slowly trying to force its way through her skin, or so it seemed. As a result, she stumbled over even the smallest unseen stones. Every time she had desperately grabbed a nearby tree or one of the boys for support, but sometimes neither was close enough.

After several times falling, both Harry and Ron had insisted to help her, but the brunette had refused stubbornly. The other day Fleur had helped her, but now she wanted to feel back to normal again! So why did she felt so horrible..?

This horrible feeling only increased... The overwhelming sickness came back in a steady tempo. Her steps became shaky. The brunette could feel sweat drops racing down her back. Was this the effect from one of Fleur's potions working its way out of her body? Had she hit her head too hard the last time she had fallen? Her brain tried to reason but the sickness invaded her thoughts and got in the way. Before she was aware of what happened the insides of her stomach were spread on the ground, warping her arms around her belly as she threw up. Her conscious was so far gone that she was not really aware of her surroundings anymore. Trying to make a sound she looked up to Harry, but it felt as if her head rolled off from her torso. She blacked out.

"Hermione!"

Fortunately, Ron and Harry had caught her before she had fallen again. The sudden collapse of their friend shocked them. The downfall of Hermione's health had happened in a scary, short amount of time.

The boys supported the brunette the rest of the way. According to Harry's and Hermione's calculations, it should not be long now, but everything seemed to be stretched to oblivion. Worry and fear had taken the carefree mood away, something always happened. As if someone was determined to destroy every moment of happiness the trio encountered.

Ron was murmuring every single insult towards Merlin he could think of. Everything seemed to go wrong lately and there was no one better than Merlin to give the blame for it.

As trees made room for an open view, Harry whispered in overt relief that they were almost there, repeating it a little louder as he told Hermione about it. However seeing as her head was facing down, relief was beaten up by dread in just a second.

There were just a few dunes left between them and the cottage.

Shell Cottage had never seemed so overwhelmingly mighty and safe. Not that they had seen it too often, but the moment Harry and Ron saw the two chimneys, they knew everything would be okay.

Almost at the same time they had seen the house, a figure rushed out from it, silver blonde hair twirling around her face which was soon followed by red. Fleur and Bill were running towards them.


	3. Chapter Three

Dear readers,

I dislike it when writers take more than two weeks to update a new chapter, yet here I find myself taking even more time.. Very hypocrite indeed. Unfortunately I cannot promise it won't happen again. Life is not predictable and I am a master in worsening the mess that I already live in. I am really sorry..

Reviews are very appreciated. And I hope you will enjoy the new chapter.

Yours Sincerely,

NightOfMine.

* * *

The boys were incredibly relieved when they saw help coming towards them, yet those happy feelings froze to a halt at the sight of a very angry quarter Veela running directly at them. Harry's instinct told him to run away as fast as possible and Ron would gladly follow his example, if not for Hermione's heavy body keeping them firmly planted where they stood.

"_'On a walk, will be back_ _soon'_?" she recited sarcastically. "What were you zinking?! _Merdre_, leaving with only a little note? I was sick with worry!" She clearly had more to say on the subject but as soon as Fleur saw Hermione's unconscious body, her anger vanished and was replaced with worry. It was written all over her face. "Oh no, 'Ermione... William, 'elp me take 'er back inside." Together they carried her back inside the cottage, followed by Harry and Ron and joined by Luna.

"Where have you been?!" was Bill's first question.

Harry opened his mouth to reply but Fleur cut him off. "When did 'Ermione fall unconscious?"

He told her every detail that was demanded from him. When Fleur had all she needed to know, she asked her husband to get several potions and herbals from the alchemy cupboard. The scarred man went downstairs and took Harry with him in the process. Now he was finally able to ask the questions that had been nagging his mind for the past 24 hours.

"So, as I asked earlier; where have you been?" Bill asked, showing Harry the way. "If you still had not shown up in an hour, I was going to send out a search party."

Harry suddenly realized how dire the situation truly was.

_We have acted like spoiled brats..._ "I am sorry for all the problems we have caused.. – "_ Arg, all I can say is 'sorry'? Pathetic _" – We have been walking around in the dunes, nothing special. Hermione and I kept track of where we were constantly!" _And knew the useful flight routes. _But Harry decided he wanted to keep that last part to himself.

"When you came here, we placed wards around the house right away with a one kilometer radius. You _know_ what the consequences are when you step out of the lines! Harry, come on. What were you three thinking?! You _endangered_ everybody!"

Shame flooded over the boy as he listened to Bill's anger and irritation, he wished he could change everything. What was he supposed to say? The thought simply had not even crossed their minds. The truth wouldn't appease Bill, and would probably even disturb him.

"I know, we didn't..." He trailed off, too ashamed to finish his sentence.

"Alright, alright." Rubbing his face roughly, Bill continued, "I did not want to snap at you like that. However, I still want to ask you about some other things... what happened to you? What happened to Hermione, for her to be in the state that she was brought in the day before yesterday?"

"I... can't tell you."

"But what are you planning to do? We could help... The whole Order wants to help." Now it was with desperation that Bill spoke with. "Please. Let me help. I feel useless."

"I am sorry, but Dumbledore gave us a task. I don't want to drag anymore people.." - What I am about to say, it has no meaning. Our actions speak volumes - " ..in the.. dangers of it.." The bitter laugh that came from William did not surprise Harry, he found it fitting and he promised himself to never act without thinking twice about it.

With the required potions and herbs they went back upstairs. The silence that had settled between them felt awkward. Harry could see that Bill was not happy with the response so instead of waiting for the bomb to explode, the dark haired boy said he would join Ron and Luna. Hoping they would be somewhere around the house. He found them in the garden, gardening.

Ron looked like a hopeless puppy, sitting on the ground prodding the earth before him with his finger. As the redhead looked up his clouded face split into a grin, "Hey you, come here! My side needs a second pair of hands. It's like the Grand Canyon over here," he gestured.

At the sudden noises Luna spun around to look who had arrived. Smiling as she watched the dark haired boy walk towards her. Inwardly Harry felt how his mood brightened a bit, he knew she would never judge others. She would never judge him. When he stood before her she happily handed him a spade, saying that she needed his help with agitating the earth. He smiled back and accepted the distraction.

And as simple as that, Harry was occupied until dinner was served.

* * *

Hermione was in a bad shape. It seemed as if her condition had only worsened since she was brought here.

After some examination, Fleur knew that her intuition had been right: Hermione's unconsciousness was caused from all the Cruciatus Curses. Her body had been severely damaged; her bones, muscles, and cells had not been able to endure all the pressure from the curses. For the time being, at the very least, Hermione would be burdened with a fragile and unpredictable body.

The long sleep the brunette had gotten the previous day and night had given her body time to repair, but it had not been enough to fully restore itself. Then came the fact that the brunette had not taken her healing potion, which she needed a little dose of every few hours. That, and the "light stroll" from today had completely destroyed any progress made in recovery. It had been foolish of the Muggle-born to think that her body was capable of exerting so much energy after so little time.

After the examination Fleur tucked Hermione in and gave the younger witch the much needed dose of a healing potion. Now it was up to Hermione's body to do the rest. There was nothing else she could do.

Inhaling deeply, the quarter Veela pinched the bridge of her nose and let go of the air in her lungs. She could have known that this would happen! Why hadn't she warned Hermione before she gave her the sleeping potion?!

As upset as she was, Fleur had to admit that this was all new to her. Since the Cruciatus curse was forbidden, there was not much knowledge of the aftereffects. In the cases where the curse was used, they were often caused by Death Eaters and they often made sure that their victims would not survive to spread the tale.

But Fleur was not going to commit the same mistake twice. This time, she was going to wait until the brunette woke to assure herself that Hermione would not be so stubborn again.

It was the start of a long, long evening for the two young women.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Luna had come by several times to ask how Hermione was doing only to be disappointed. Dean had come once. Silently standing by the doorpost, looking awkward between the two women.

_A strange boy_, was all Fleur had thought.

William had accompanied her for several hours as well, talking about his frustrations in a hushed voice. The two boys hadn't wanted to answer any of his questions. _Why do they keep everything to themselves?! We could help them! It drives me crazy_, were lines he repeated frequently.

She understood this all too well. Fleur herself had tried to figure out what had happened by asking Luna some questions, but the blonde knew how to wriggle herself out of the interrogations every single time. For all the peculiar stories she told, she was a very smart girl, who probably knew more than she was letting on.

Hermione slept the whole time through it all, like a hedgehog hibernating through winter. No screams and no thrashing around either. There had been times that the brunette had made strange suffocating noises, but nothing more. The only thing that did seem to come back regularly were sweat attacks. Whenever it happened, her eyes would flutter with an incredible speed. With a wet towel, Fleur wiped all the sweat from Hermione's face.

When the night fell upon them, William had given her a good-night kiss before he went to bed. Fleur browsed through different books to keep herself from falling asleep, yet when the sun broke through the dark blue sky, Fleur was startled out of her sleep from hearing a knock on the door.

Harry's head poked inside the room. "Has Hermione slept the whole night?"

The quarter Veela nodded, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The door opened further and now Ron could be seen as well. Fleur's eyes softened. The two boys sometimes acted like mere children, but maybe that was necessary for those who were responsible for the fate of all humanity.

"I am sorry to ask zis from ze two of you, but could you please stay here for a few hours? Two, maybe zree? I really need some sleep."

Ron nodded at once, happy he could finally do _something_.

Standing next to her own bed, Fleur did not even bother to change into her pajamas. She had been awake since the front door had slammed rather forcefully the other day when the three teenagers had begun their walk. Twenty-seven hours and several minutes to be precise. Fleur was exhausted.

Bill warped his arms around her the moment she laid next to him. His body felt like a warming charm.

"Wake me in zree hours, _mon amour_," she murmured against his chest.

* * *

Harry sat on the floor with his back against Hermione's bed. Ron sat in the chair Fleur had occupied an hour ago. He watched Hermione's steady breathing. Fleur had warned them about the sweat attacks. As of now, it had only happened once.

Something still bugged Ron, that much was obvious. _Is it something to do with Hermione?_, Harry thought.

"What are you scowling about?"

The red headed boy's mind was not really here, but answered nonetheless. "I still do not think it is a good idea to involve Griphook in our plans. He is such a foul creature – please don't tell 'Mione I said that – but an alternative for the plan is not really possible. And that, my friend, makes me scowl," he sighed, resting his head against the backrest. "Have you visited the goblin yet?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, I did. I had to bring him his diner. He was making nasty comments about the food, his bed, his leg and Merlin knows what. He is _supposed_ to be thankful, yet he does not stop complaining. The git."

Moving on to another subject, Harry asked if Bill had tried to get information out of him as well.

The change of subject surprised Ron, causing the red head to look up amused. "Yeah, first he tried his old blackmail strategy, which had _always_ worked, back when I was _younger_." After a meaningful silence, Ron continued, "He even tried to bribe me, saying he would buy me all the candy from Honeydukes I wanted. I still wonder if he was serious..."

The dark haired boy shook his head with an unbelieving smile. "Fleur was furious when we came back," Harry stated, and his smile faltered a little.

Ron's face grimaced. "Yeah. The first thing I thought was: 'Yes, 'Mione is saved.' Next moment, my mind was screaming that my mother was running towards us."

Both laughed now, joined by a softer laugh coming from the bed.

When the laughter suddenly died, Hermione looked at her two companions. Harry and Ron looked flabbergasted, as if she had risen from her death.

"Is that how you will look every time I wake up?" a smile still lingering in her voice. She would never admit it, but Hermione felt horrible. Her body was stiff and her clothes were drowned in sweat. Her head was so heavy that standing up was not even an option. In her sleep, visions and sounds had haunted her. Her rest hadn't been restful in the slightest, so she found herself grateful for the boys' laughter, giving her the soothing feeling of recognition. "So... what happened this time?" the Muggle-born asked, not entirely sure if she wanted to know.

Both boys shrugged, not really knowing the facts themselves. "It happened very quickly. One minute, you were walking – somewhat limping, to be honest – and the next minute, you collapsed before our eyes." Ron shrugged again. "Fleur did not say anything before she went to bed, only that we had to make you drink a glass of water if you woke up."

Hermione nodded, handing back the now empty glass. She felt very tired. And she knew that if she closed her eyes for two seconds, she would be unconscious again but she tried to fight it, being way too scared of what would haunt her this time.

"We were not allowed to give you anything else. No Sleeping Draught, I mean," Harry said apologetically.

_Since when could you read minds, Harry?_

She nodded again, not because she understood the reasoning behind this, but because she was actually falling asleep again.

That was when the nightmare continued for Hermione. Or rather, started all over again.

Darkness had closed its hand around her body and took her back to the world of eternity. And when it did so, screams flooded over her as well. None of the screams sounded familiar and none of the people surrounding her seemed to be the owners of the voices. She had looked around but all of them where faceless. It scared Hermione to be in the middle of this waterfall of unrecognizable bodies. A desire to see something or someone she would recognize bubbled up inside her and this desire only grew with time. The Muggle-born began to run through the blur of the faceless and screams, never stopping.

By now a whisper had joined the background music. It was Bellatrix's voice. Hermione could almost cry from happiness to hear something she knew, had it not been the very same insults, questions, and taunts Bellatrix had whispered at the brunette while torturing her.

At some point she wanted to scream for help, if anyone was there who could help her, but the moment sounds were supposed to come out of her mouth they were drowned out by the ones of a raging river, accompanied by a pressure on her rib cage. Hermione couldn't breathe. It felt like being pulled underwater, yet there was no water filling her lungs when she gasped for air. It was confusing at first but as the feeling grew into an unbearable tumor, she could no longer care for the indistinctness. Would the pressure never go away? Or was it only a matter of time? Hermione vowed to herself that she would not utter a single sound until the invisible water finally disappeared.

At long last it did. Slowly the pressure on her torso faded until it was completely gone.

The very same moment Hermione regained her search for the one thing she would recognize. Running past the unidentifiable bodies, panic began to gnaw at her. Why was she not able to find the person she searched for? More importantly, w_ho _or_ what_ was she searching for?

Standing still, Hermione covered her ears in a desperate attempt to block out the screams and whispers. It did not work, they weren't even muffled. Tears wanted to break through her closed eyes, but the Muggle-born demanded them to disappear. When she looked up, a strange figure caught her attention. And recognition settled itself inside Hermione. _I have been searching for that?! _

It was a feminine body clad in black, with a crow's skull as a head. Hermione looked at the person with a mixture of dread and curiosity. Likewise, the person seemed to stare at the brunette. A chill ran through her at the thought.

When it reached its hand towards the Muggle-born, the girl in question was surprised and suddenly grateful for the few feet of distance between them. The curiosity she had felt earlier was now replaced by fear. Without thinking, she spun around to run away at full speed. With panic rushing through her veins, the brunette was not aware that the faceless bodies were disappearing one by one. It did not matter where Hermione looked because everywhere she turned, there stood the crow headed female.

And all of a sudden it changed. There she was, standing on a few tiles enclosed by darkness.

The whispers and screams surrounded the young girl, filling her body with the filth they spoke of and bringing tears streaming down her subconscious cheeks. In a desperate attempt to end it all, she jumped into the blackness. The suffocating feeling came back straightaway when her vocal cords wanted to make a sound. Her suffering was silenced but not undone.

She fell endlessly. For an eternity, Hermione was wrapped in a blanket of nothingness. The darkness had become her world, but the screams and whispers were as a noose for the hanged. They would follow her wherever she went. Had she been so naive to believe that they would have ended with the jump?

Now that all possible distractions had vanished, the screams made sure to hit all her senses. They came from everywhere. Dancing around her with the hateful sound of their voices, even Bellatrix's whispers seemed almost _neutral _compared to some of the screams. The brunette could actually smile at that thought, albeit bitterly. She wanted so desperately to surround herself with silence.

Wasn't there supposed to come light? To shine the way out for Hermione? Why was there nothing to help her? Why could she not even cry for help?

From now on sleep was filled with this timeless struggle for peace.

* * *

This time it had taken longer for the brunette to return to the world of the living. A dozing Fleur sat in the chair. The day was slowly moving towards the evening, but the seagulls made sure that everybody remembered that they were there, still alive and wanting to be fed.

Hermione sat up very slowly... _Creeeak_. She cringed, knowing that she had woken up her companion.

Two deep blue eyes focused on her, blinking rapidly to chase the sleep away. Not really knowing what to do, Hermione settled for waving a hello. A smile tugged at Fleur's features, but was soon drowned in a stern look. Hermione cringed again, knowing that there was a storm coming.

"I never thought I would be saying this to _you_ – of all people! – but this was a very stupid thing to do." The reproach was terse and Hermione could hear another something lingering in Fleur's voice... Disappointment? Irritation? Both?

"I am sorry, I di –"

"You _should_ 'ave known, 'Ermione, zat is ze whole point! You know zat someone needs a regular dose from a 'ealing potion. You know zat when a person 'as suffered a broken rib, she is not in ze position to make a walk zrough ze dunes, let alone a walk longer zan one 'ours! And you 'ad been gone for much longer!"

Hermione sputtered that she had not been aware of her body's state, which only increased Fleur's ire. The quarter Veela tried her hardest to suppress her anger, but her voice rose nonetheless. Fleur disapproved of Hermione's actions and choices, and could no longer keep it to herself. Unfortunately, the culprit of Fleur's fit was not afraid to argue back.

The other residents of the house could hear the argument as well. All of them stayed away from the second floor, not wanting to be brought into the argument.

In the end, it was Fleur who stormed out of the room, leaving a thick aroma through the house which caused the male residents to sway on their knees. Fortunately, they were still bright enough to decide to leave the house for a while – together they played a few games of soccer, for so far they could with only three players – which left Fleur to cook in the silence she needed. The only sounds came from the cooking pans and knives, which danced in the air, sometimes catching a peeled potato just in time. Luna's voice chirped through the cadence, telling the quarter Veela that she went upstairs to keep Hermione company.

Hermione had watched as Fleur ran out of the room, leaving a thick odor in the room. Hermione rolled her eyes (_Veela hormones) _and opened up a window to let the scent fade away, hopefully letting her frustration leave with it. Looking at her bed, she saw that the linen was covered with her sweat, but at this moment, she did not really care.

Appropriating the chair, Hermione reflected on the last 72 hours. The events from the past few days were unbelievable, yet the Muggle-born had felt every ounce of angry hatred taken out on her body. Somehow she even lacked the energy to blame Bellatrix for her body's condition. The brunette wished that like a game, she could just push the buttons and click on "quit game."

_If it was only that simple... _she sighed.

A knock on the door brought Hermione out of her thoughts. Luna stood in the doorpost, looking around in the room, probably affirming herself that there were no Wrackspurts in the room. Or maybe there were?

"I thought you could need a little help?" The statement came out more like a question.

As an answer, Hermione just stood and took the dingy sheet in her hands, waiting for Luna to tug on the other ends. Together they made the bed, cleaned the rest of the room and took the dirty laundry downstairs.

Well, Luna took it downstairs. Hermione was still too stubborn to face Fleur, so she took a shower instead.

It felt great. Even her recently broken rib could not keep her from humming random melodies.

How refreshing the pouring of water can be. One's mind relaxed and pondered the major decisions in life, questioning the inherent, underlying reason for all actions. Hermione knew that, which was why when she stepped into the shower it had been a little reluctantly. Under the downpour, she was able to reflect on her own behavior: her actions and words in the argument had been out of surprise, but they had also been wrong and she knew she had to apologize for it.

Even though the warm dampness of the water distributed itself in every corner of the bathroom, the smell of a home-cooked meal was able to penetrate through, forcing the brunette to hurry. Now that she had noticed the smell, her belly was protesting loudly. With its rumbles, it was obvious that her stomach was practically screaming at her to run downstairs. For her stomach it did not matter that she was not fully clothed yet or that her hair was still wrapped in a towel. When she was finally done, she ran downstairs as fast as her body allowed her, and that was not much more than shuffling down the stairs.

"Look out, Harry! There is an old lady on the stairs, we have to pass her slowly. Otherwise she could lose her balance." It was, of course, Ron who said that with a playful smile on his face. Hermione shoved his shoulder when he walked next to her and he hurried downstairs. Harry could be heard from the living room.

Hermione stood awkwardly by the doorpost of the kitchen. Since the shower she realized how childish she had acted and shame had her in its grip. Not really knowing how to act towards Fleur, Hermione just stood there and watched as the quarter Veela put out the dishes. She waited for the blonde to openly confirm her presence. Until then she would stay rooted on the spot, for she did not want to trespass on Fleur's territory.

The older witch sighed, stood upright and met Hermione's eyes. Fleur looked so incredibly tired.

Right then, next to shame, there came the feeling of guilt. The quarter Veela had done so much for her and the only thing she did was causing more problems. Averting her eyes from Fleur's face, she looked down and counted all the different shades of brown there were in the wood of the floor.

_Grumble, grumble, grumble!_

Hermione blushed as her stomach spoke volumes for her in her silence. A chuckle came and exploded in the kitchen, spreading the sound of amusement between the walls of the house.

"Dinner is ready. Please tell ze others for me, would you?" Fleur spoke lightly, the joy still lingering in her voice.

Sighing in relief, Hermione could smile again. Her unspoken apology had been accepted.

The Muggle-born could feel how the evening had changed from a gloomy atmosphere to a happily-ever-after feeling. Her body was still sore and cranky, but with the healing potion in reach, everything went well. Even so, she was the first to go to bed. The few hours spent awake had exhausted her. It was understandable, of course, but Hermione suspected Fleur had put something in her drink to make her drowsy. Something about her tea _had _tasted off...

But there was a problem. So Hermione took Harry away from the others, making it clear to him that Ron had to be left out of it. Once they stood in the hallway, she told him her fears.

"Harry... I am afraid... to sleep alone..." That was easier than expected. "I do not want to sleep alone in a room. It feels so weird. I am so used to _knowing_ that you sleep – or at least _stay_ – close to me..."

She did not want to explain any further, hoping he would understand. Ron was definitely going to be suspicious about it, but that was his own problem. He was the one that had left them behind. Even now, the memory sparked her annoyance and hurt in her heart.

The dark haired boy stood in silence. He looked more relaxed than she had seen in a very long time, but he too had clearly abandoned sleep for quite a while. Harry's shoulders drooped and he had dark circles under his eyes. Hermione briefly wondered how she looked. _Probably the way I feel: battered, old and run-down_.

But when a reassuring smile cracked his frown, Harry looked absolutely like... Sirius. One would think he would have looked like James, but since Hermione had never known or seen him... The boyish way he smiled, his eyes that held only kindness and a little daring, even his posture seemed no longer like that of an broken spirit. Harry was like a normal teenager.

Before the boy could say anything, Hermione flew her arms around his neck and laughed softly – her ribs prickling a little, reminding her that she was not allowed to do anything too intense. The smile and his eyes, they had pulled her towards him. It had reminded her how they had been before the start of the Horcrux hunt. Without being aware of it, she had just wanted to enclose her arms around the teenager in front of her.

A bit surprised he asked her what caused her to laugh, while wrapping his arms around her. Stepping backwards she looked at Harry, but already knew his answer. A grin still plastered on her face.

He nodded, "Of course. I'll ask if the three of us could sleep in your room."

To Hermione's amazement Ron did not suspect anything at all, instead he collected his blankets with joy. Hermione got some help from Fleur with making enough space in the room. When the boys had laid all their stuff down, the environment was much more familiar. It was almost like all those months they had lived in the tent.

Before they went to bed, the trio had been having some fun with the water of the sink in the bathroom, splattering each other wet or smearing toothpaste on the others face. They could not help it, sometimes acting and having fun like a child was just something they needed. Finally, Bill interrupted with a grin and the statement that there were more people who wanted to brush their teeth.

Each settled themselves in their own bed. Harry and Ron tossed the Snitch over while murmuring quietly. Hermione laid down with the idea to read a book but sleep had assailed her the moment she laid comfortable in the bed. And since the brunette had been so at ease, she had not been able to brace herself at all.

The screams and the whisperer had engulfed Hermione's subconscious again, and so the nightmare came again.

This nightmare would haunt the Muggle-born every single time a restful sleep was supposed to be achieved. After several nights, it was obvious to everyone that Hermione was being cankered by Bellatrix. The female Death Eater had made sleeping for the brunette a torture.

But Hermione was too stubborn to give up without even trying, she had to get this nightmare away. And if Harry was able to conquer Voldemort and his nasty visions, Hermione was not likely to stay behind.

Taking a Sleeping Potion regularly was not an option, as it would affect Hermione's hormone production. The brunette racked her brain for all the possible remedies. From letting Luna pluck all the imaginary creatures out of her hair, ears and her pillow, to taking all the possible herbal teas that Fleur knew of, every single idea had failed.

The last possibility was difficult to achieve, at least for Harry it had been hard. Hermione had her doubts it could work for her, but it was the only thing left for her to try. And she knew that even with her abilities and desperation, it would take some time. However, Harry wanted to help her with it. He would help her with learning to close her mind off to others. Hermione was about to learn how to deal with Occlumency.

However she had underestimated a few, important things:

Healing from dangerous injuries was something that needed time, even with healing magic at hand, and making your mind blank and full of emptiness was near to impossible. And the fact that Fleur had forbidden her to practice with Harry was not favorable either. Now they had to do it secretly, which was quite difficult until Hermione was allowed to leave the house again. The quarter Veela had made it obvious that she no longer trusted the brunette with her own health, much to Harry's, Ron's and Hermione's frustration.

Yet Fleur could be a lovely distraction as well. Hermione could often be found sitting in the living room with the quarter Veela. They talked about things life granted women with, things that Hermione could have never brought up with Ron and Harry. Hair, clothes, make-up, boys. They talked about Fleur's life when she still lived in France. The brunette had even shared some of her childhood stories. However, there were times that she just wanted to whine, to express her desire to go outside with Harry and Ron.

"Fleur, I beg you. Pleaseeeee, let me go outside with the boys." Hermione had seated herself in the love-seat, letting her head rest on her palm, staring longingly out of the window.

"_No, ma chérie_. You have shown me zat you are not capable to know your own limits." Fleur stated simply, not even looking up from her book. Hermione just shrugged. She had not expected the answer would be different this time.

It was not that she was bored. It was the fact that she was not allowed to go where she wanted to. Just _knowing_ that she had to stay inside made the temptation even more inviting.

"You know that you are evil, right? If not, well just let me hear and I can repeat it a thousand times if you want me to." Looking at the blonde, she saw the evidence of her joy. Blue eyes sparkling and the corners of her lips upwards. Hermione could not help but smile as well. The fresh friendship between them was so comfortable that by now, she no longer thought it to be awkward or strange to spend so much time with her.

"Did you notice zat I was ze one 'ealing you? I do not count zat under ze traits of an evil being. Do you?"

"Maybe it is part of your plan? By which you will conquer the world in the end?" Fleur looked up with a questioning eyebrow, "Who told you of my plan, smart-ass?"

Laughing Hermione gave up in this discussion. Fleur grinned and started reading again. Standing up the brunette busied herself with making tea, thinking over the past few days.

It had surprised Hermione how she liked the chit-chatting with the quarter Veela. She had never really talked about things the way they did. Fleur sometimes asked about details Hermione had never even considered, then she had to do some research before being able to answer the question. Yet Fleur was able to direct the conversations to nothing of importance all the same. And surprisingly enough, Hermione found that talking about those nothings and everything was as entertaining as any other discussion.

Luna could be just as surprising. Hermione had known this blonde a little longer, but real interaction had been an absence. Now it seemed that they were granted the possibility to claim their lost opportunities.

Since both Luna and Hermione had lost their wands, they had to work with the ones Harry had been able to achieve while trying to escape. Leaving Hermione with Bellatrix's wand. They had to practice to try and get the will of the wands under control. It had required all the patience Hermione possessed before she had mastered the wand's will, but not before Luna had spilled her wisdom over Hermione.

"Argg, I cannot take this anymore! This wand is Bellatrix's in every ounce of its determination!" Hermione had growled, after the umpteenth failed attempt to make a book hover around the room. In the silence that followed, Luna just stared at the Muggle-born, studying her. When she spoke, her voice carried a sincerity that threw Hermione out of balance.

"Think of it as if you are drawing fish on a paper. When that is done, all you have to do is wait for them to begin to swim."

"That is waiting for the impossible," the brunette opposed.

"Isn't that the same as defeating You-Know-Who? As so many people say, loudest of all by the man himself. Yet I am certain that you three are able to do it. And I am not alone in this opinion." Hermione did not dare to say anything against it and only nodded. Feeling as if defeated the brunette lifted the wand up once again and they carried on with their practice.

It had taken a lot of hours, sweat and frustration, but their victory came nonetheless. Both had most of the wand's will and magic under control.

Due to the influence of Fleur and Luna, the most simple things became something more. All in all it felt for Hermione as if she began to see things through the eye of a women. And she enjoyed it, the new experiences were fun.


	4. Chapter Four

Whut? Who is she? What is an update from her(!?) doing in my mailbox?

Yes, I would not be surprised if you have completely forgotten who I am and what my fanfic is about. Well, yeah.. Hullo, I am still alive. I did not get hit by a car nor did a crazy neighbour kidnap me. Nope, I have just been extremely busy.. Is that the only reason? Yes, I am affraid so. And for that I want to beg for your forgiveness, because dear reader(s), maybe it does not seem like it but I love writing this FanFic and I find myself enjoying it even more to share it with you all (not to mention my utter delight every time I receive a review, a new follower or a fav).

Since I have taken so long to update I feel that I owe you all an (tiny little) explanation.. And it is a sort of warning all the same.

The problem is.. This summer I have become a student. And for all of you who are one (or, like me, are becoming one) or have once been one, well I think that you all know about what busyness I am talking. There is so much you have to organize, even more when you are planning to live on your own (and guess what I am going to do? Yes, I am going to spread my arms and fly out.. Sigh)

In September I will start my (FUCKING) first trimester. From then on I need to feed myself, work, study (yes! I shall study until my brains don't understand the difference between an apple and a pear.. Ignore the sarcasm dripping from every word) and not to forget CLEAN(!?) my OWN apartment (friends? What are friends? Can you eat it?).

..Oh my god!? Who said growing up was fun?! Where the fuck did they got that crazy idea from?!.. Ahem, so busy times it will be.

That is the main reason for the delay, other than that there is the fact that I have been on two vacations as well (to France and Ireland).

I want to scream in agony and repeat how sorry I am over and over again, while I crumble to the ground. Hoping that you all won't hate me or are feeling the need to rip me to pieces. So yeah.. I AM SO SORRY, PLEASE DON'T KILL ME?!

Here is a new chapter, I hope you all will enjoy it. I know that I do not deserve it, yet I cannot keep myself from writing this: ..It would be appreciated if you could leave a review for me, writing all the critic or love you feel towards my FanFic. Hell, even if you would write me how you want to kill me it would support me to create more time to write.

If you are still with me then I wish you a pleasant return into my FanFiction. And if you are new, then: Welcome!

I hope you all find it an enjoyable chapter.

Yours Sincerely,

NightOfMine.

* * *

It had been one whole week since Hermione was able to set foot outside the Cottage. A whole week imprisoned within the house, while Harry and Ron were still able to go outside. And every time they came back inside, the smell of the sea clung to them. In the beginning it had not mattered much to Hermione, but with her energy being bottled up it was only a matter of time until she grew restless. After only been four days since the walk, she found herself pacing through the house like a caged tiger.

Every morning Fleur would do a check-up on Hermione, and this morning Hermione's condition was finally stable enough to get a smile and a nod from the quarter Veela. The trio had hurriedly made their way outside the moment Fleur had given her permission.

Spreading her arms theatrically towards the air, Hermione welcomed the feel of the wind against her skin and hair. Harry grinned and bumped into her softly, silently challenging her for a run. Ron, however, was already running, laughing hard as he looked over his shoulder. Harry and Hermione were in hot pursuit. In mere seconds the dark haired boy gained on Ron, the brunette close on his trail. Birds flew away as they ran past. Their startled chirps sounded as soft as whispers from Mother Nature. She laughed and took the opportunity to run in between the trees, veering off of the path with the boys echoing her choice.

Suddenly, they were no longer playing games, but their chase had turned into survival practice: jumping over fallen trees, dodging low branches, running all the possible flight routes. They made it as hard as possible for themselves.

They were able to keep the pace up for a quarter hour and even after that, they kept on walking albeit their heavy panting.

It was still early in the morning. The sun had just begun its way upwards, painting the sky in all sorts of colours.

"I am so happy to be outside again." The brunette could not suppress a sigh of relief. It had been gnawing at her as she had watched the boys duel on the sand a few times. A smile appeared at the idea that popped into her head, "Do you two care to show me your abilities in a duel?"

"Ha! Not afraid in the slightest that we best you, are you?" Ron remarked with a grin. Rolling her eyes, Hermione took that as a yes. Harry was already summing the rules up.

"Every man for himself. No use of dangerous spells. When unable to proceed dueling or when rendered wandless, it's game over for you."

"I bet I will have you wandless in less than 10 minutes!" she teased Ron, purposely pouring oil on the fire. So she shot him a wide smile, ensuring him that she was only joking. He laughed, while walking to a good spot to begin the duel. Each of them had found their own spot, forming an equilateral triangle.

"Ready?" Harry shouted, "Set... Go!"

At once Hermione sprang from her place, avoiding a jinx from Harry. Running to her right, she watched as Ron took advantage of this distraction and shot a spell at Harry. The dark haired boy had predicted this and produced a Shield Charm, allowing Hermione the time to sprint to close the distance.

Using her surroundings as a shield against the spells that came her way, she tried to find a good time to spring back into the battle. Daring her entrance, she emerged from her hiding spot, all the while shielding herself from potential treats. Once she found her footing, she began conjuring spells and jinxes, immediately shooting them towards Ron. Meanwhile, Harry chose to fade into the background now that Hermione and Ron were distracted.

Hermione made sure her attacks came at full force. A Stupefy here, an Expelliarmus there. And she spiced it all up with some innocent jinxes. There wasn't a moment of rest between the spells, nor a moment for Ron to catch his breath before the next attack came.

Ron was shocked at the impact of the spells and took a few steps back. He did his best against her but the redhead was at her mercy. Hermione smiled, confident in her victory. She already knew how she could overpower him but unfortunately she was unable to break his defense, for her train of spells was interrupted by the sudden attack of Harry. He shot an Expelliarmus, which she was barely able to avoid. Trying to use this as an escape, the Muggle-born jumped in the direction of safety, but she was plunged backwards by a strong invisible rope._ Game over._

There she hung upside down, watching how Harry overpowered Ron. It brought her back to reality, now that the adrenaline slowly faded. She knew which incantation Harry had used, _Levicorpus,_ but shockingly enough, the counter-spell was unknown to her. The brunette could do little but wait. However, Harry made sure to entertain her.

He danced around Ron, sending a constant barrage of spells flying and making it extremely difficult for the redhead to actually make a blow himself. With a sly diversionary tactic, the dark haired boy was able to hit Ron with a Body-Bind Curse.

Ron fell backwards, but the ground was uneven, making his body roll down the hill. Harry saw this and sprinted after him. Watching Ron tumble down the hill and Harry desperately trying but failing to catch him was like a real clown show and Hermione was enjoying it with all her sanity. And when Ronald ended with his face in the sand, Hermione could not control herself. The laugh came from deep down. It felt weird to be laughing upside down, but that did not stop her from enjoying the show.

Harry spoke the counter-curse and walked back to Hermione to help her down.

"You handled the wand from Bellatrix pretty well, if I may say so," he commented.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at the complement. "But you still won."

"That was only because you were too focused on defeating Ron. Try to keep your mind open to your surroundings; don't become fixated on only one person."

Hermione nodded, imprinting the lesson in her mind. They walked towards Ron, who was still flat on the ground with an absent expression upon his freckled face. She reached for him, to get him out of his trance and help him on his feet.

"I don't get how you two do it," he grumbled.

"Do what?" Harry asked.

"I think Ron does not like to lose, Harry," Hermione offered, "Am I right, Ronald?"

The boy in question huffed, crossing his arms.

"Let's start the second round, shall we?" Harry said instead.

This time, Hermione was determined to win. _The first had just been a warm up,_ she told herself. The Muggle-born desperately needed the flow of the adrenaline racing through her veins.

In her head, Hermione kept repeating that she had to be aware of her surroundings while battling her opponent. As a result, she had spotted Ron sneaking towards her. She waited for a good moment to surprise the boy and pretended not to notice him. In the meantime, she was busy keeping Harry at a distance.

When she noticed now was a good time for her to take control of the situation, Hermione distracted Harry with a few spells and jinxes. She was only buying time to get herself out of his sight, but he was genuinely struggling with the tree that had come to life.

Twirling around, she dashed towards the redhead, throwing a dozen jinxes at the shocked boy. Ron deflected every single one just in time, but was not aware of the slyness of the brunette. She had hexed the roots of several bushes surrounding him, which wriggled themselves around Ron's legs. With a single flick of her wand, the roots tightened around him and he fell to the ground. The Muggle-born then obtained his wand with an Expelliarmus in the process.

One down, one to go.

Harry was her next target. Wasting no time, she faced her best friend. He looked amused and his grin told her that he was not planning to lose. _You just wait, punk!_ Hermione had been aware of his presence the whole time, shielding herself from his spells when needed. He had almost been able to take her down when she had tripped, but thanks to the fallen tree Hermione had been able to protect herself as she defeated Ron.

Hermione ducked away from his spells and sent a few of her own in retaliation. Harry deflected them without any difficulty.

Both enjoyed the other's determination, which only encouraged their own mind-set. Harry and Hermione had their wands produce spell after spell, but breaking the others defenses seemed impossible.

Both had reached an impasse until Hermione took an unexpected risk. She charged towards the dark haired boy, crisscrossing through the trees and bushes. Harry was quick to begin his own dance around her so that he could keep the distance between them. As if they were thinking as one, both began to use their surroundings even more, sometimes throwing a stone at the other or confusing the other with a created cloud of sand and dust.

As time passed, the teens began to feel their sweat dripping to the ground_. How long have we been going on already?_ Exhaustion was going to follow soon. Hermione knew that if she wanted to win, then she had to stop this soon. It was time for a combination of both daring and stupidity.

Taking a handful of sand, Hermione dared to run directly at Harry. He responded instinctively, shooting strong spells directly at her. Hermione was prepared for this and swished the crooked wand, conjuring a strong shield charm whenever needed. Understanding her tactic too late, Harry dashed to a safe hiding place, but he was too late.

The brunette threw the substance towards her friend, distracting him and hopefully temporarily blinding him. Penetrating his defenses had become a piece of cake and Hermione shot her final spell.

_"Stupefy!"_

A rigid Harry landed on the ground.

"Wow, that was much better!" he beamed up at her.

Hermione shrugged modestly, but her cheeks betrayed her true feelings. "I learned from the best," She smiled, raising her hand in the air after Harry got back to his feet.

"You_ have_ always been a fast learner," Harry agreed. He high-fived her and they walked back towards Ron. They had drifted further away than the two had planned. Luckily, it wasn't long before they found the boy that had been left behind. Ron was struggling to get the roots off his body, but they did not give in. Harry freed his friend, while Hermione observed them. After the redhead got up he came standing beside her, obtaining his own wand.

"And was I able to exceed your expectations?" she said, prodding an already grumpy Ron. He grumbled in response, unwilling to congratulate her. Her eyes shone with satisfaction. She had been able to stand her ground despite having to use Bellatrix's wand; it was such a relief.

"Come on Hermione, let him be." Harry led them out of the forest.

Opening her beaded bag, Hermione took three apples out from it. Just before leaving the Cottage, Fleur had handed her the fruit. It was halfway through the morning and after their strenuous practice, they could use a little substance in their stomachs. Sitting down on the border of the forest and dunes, the trio chewed contently on their apples.

"I have been practicing to get thoughts and emotions out of my head," the brunette began suddenly and took the final bite from her apple, "and I was wondering if you could test my progress?" While she was forbidden from leaving the Cottage, emptying her mind had been a practice that she had come back to frequently.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, still staring at the landscape. "Let me finish my fruit and we can begin."

"Are you sure it is not too much at once?" It was Ron who spoke of his concerns.

Hermione just rolled her eyes. This was not the first time the red head had asked such a thing. Since her collapse Ron had been extremely cautious with her, as if she would break into a thousand pieces if touched. "Oh please, I can handle this, Ron." Her response came a little snappy. "I am not made from porcelain! Just let me enjoy the outside world."

"I am just worried that you will push yourself past your limits again."

"Well, stop worrying, because I am very good in knowing my own limits. Besides I have already Fleur watching my every step. The moment I do something unwise, I can hear her voice calling me."

Ron snorted, "That we can see! The last time you were outside, we had to drag your unconscious body back to the Cottage."

Hermione was about to come with a witty response when a laugh interrupted her. Harry had watched the bickering two and could not help the laugh bubbling within. With surprised looks, the two looked at their best friend, then back at the other. Both smiled now, aware of the silliness of this argument.

Ron shrugged and said, "You win."

Harry threw the core of his apple in the bushes, happy that the arguments could be solved so easily more often as of lately. Turning towards Hermione, he pointed his wand tip towards her, purposely catching her off guard. His face stern as he mouthed the numbers_ one, two, three._ The Muggle-born tried to be fast, immediately wiping her mind blank, but when the spell hit she could feel how easily Harry broke through her barriers.

Before her eyes flashed all sort of memories and feelings. Her mother smiling as a little version of the brunette told the older Miss Granger how people needed to care more about one another. Viktor Krum pressing his lips tenderly on hers. A very angry Ron Weasley running out of the tent, leaving Hermione and Harry behind; they both relived it all over again.

Some things were new for the dark haired boy, it felt strange for him to see such emotional aspects from his female friend. As if he was spying upon her whole life. Other scenes were well-known to him, only with a slightly different point of view.

The Muggle-born could hear Harry talking from far away but his voice sounded hollow. He said something about concentration and emptiness, but she could not hear. Hermione was completely sucked into a world formed of her own history and memories.

Finally, Harry withdrew from her mind and both returned to their full senses. Hermione breathed heavily from all the effort and found herself standing. She had moved unconsciously. Ron looked curiously from one to the other, wondering what Harry may have seen. A minute passed before the Muggle-born nodded again, giving Harry the signal to try again. He held his wand her way and it began all once more.

This time she could hold him off for longer, but it did not last long: her friend had found a weak spot. Memories returned to the surface. Crookshanks capturing a mouse to present to a younger Hermione. Draco Malfoy and his nasty remarks about her origin or brains or looks. Dobby with his goofy smile. McGonagall looking at Hermione's homework with a pleased smile. And the train of memories ended abruptly again.

"Please sit down again," Harry instructed her. "It is obvious that you no longer hear me when you relive your memories. You are too attached to your past. There is nothing wrong with that," he continued hastily, "I had the same problem. What works for me is that I focus on the matter at hand - the present - all the while trying to keep my emotions at bay."

"In other words, I need to change my whole mindset when someone tries to pry inside my head?"

"If you want to say it like that, yes, I think so," he shrugged.

Hermione was in disbelief. It sounded so easy when Harry put it like that, but in practice it was a whole different story.

He read her face like an open book, "Hey, I never said it would be easy!"

"Hm..." Sitting with crossed legs Hermione studied a small stone as she held it up. She willed to find the needed mind-set, but what exactly was she looking for? This thought reminded her a lot of her nightmare, in which she had to search for something familiar while not even knowing what or who it was... Until she would come across the female with the crow skull.

The brunette threw the stone away, frustration taking over. Why was it that everything would always somehow end up going back to that female Death Eater and the stupid nightmare?! She grumbled, an uncomfortable shudder running through her body. Taking a deep breath, she silently commanded her feelings to subdue. Never again would she let herself be so frightened, so helpless, so full of fear as she had been in Malfoy Manor. With one last deep breath, she nodded again.

Thanks to the new tactic Harry had taught her, it took him much more energy and time to break her defenses, yet he was always able to find his way into her mind eventually. Sometimes the memories that they faced were a little embarrassing. The moments Hermione had shared with Viktor had not been on her list of sharing and the painful moments in her life were not ones she wanted to relive as well. Nevertheless, they kept on practicing. There had been several times that the two were faced with memories from the torture in Malfoy Manor and every time Harry drew back immediately. He wanted to apologize for recalling those memories, but one look from the brunette would silence him.

All in all, Hermione improved at a surprising speed. Her achievements were not spotless, yet far above what was expected in such a short time. It was only when Ron spoke of his hunger that Harry and Hermione acknowledged his existence again.

"How about we go back to the Cottage? I am hungry!" the redhead whined. "It is almost noon, so lunch will probably be served." It was cute how the anticipation was shining on his face. Ron had been watching his two friends practice since they had begun. Boredom had settled quickly and had changed into a hunger that spoke with loud grumbles. Hermione looked at him with a crooked smile. He would always be the same old Ron. Someone she could recognize from miles away, yet he had never emerged in her nightmare.

It was always Bellatrix who the brunette sought, which was something Hermione did not understand in the slightest, even if she wanted it. At first, she had not even wanted to acknowledge the fact that it actually was Bellatrix in her dreams. _Masked with her stupid crow skull,_ the brunette thought grudgingly. She had tried to find other meanings, other symbols, but who other than the female Death Eater could the female form of Hermione's nightmare be?

With a tap on her shoulder, Ron pointed out that he was still waiting for an answer. She, in turn, looked expectantly at Harry; he was the one that made the decisions, not her.

"Yeah, sure. A break would do everyone good."

"Maybe we could continue with our dueling practice this evening?" Hermione asked as she stood up to follow the two.

"Only if we get a little rest first. I know that you want to enjoy being outside, and I completely understand that, but overdoing it could cause not only you to become ill."

"See?! I am not the only one that is worrying about you!" the redhead exclaimed.

"Harry is not worrying about every step I take, Ronald." Hermione snapped, "You know, maybe you are a bit like your mother."

"You two should drop this topic already." Harry said, "Ron, if you don't want to take part in the practice, then don't. We are not pressuring you or anything."

At this, all the redhead could do was grumble and kick a stone out of his way angrily. "Right... Maybe we should invite the whole group then," Ron said mockingly. He clearly did not like the duels anymore.

"What a brilliant idea!" exclaimed the brunette happily. "That brings a little variety to it all. We know each other too well, it is easier for us to predict each other's tactics."

"I was being sarcastic, Hermione," he said, rolling his eyes. "You know, saying something and not meaning it?"

"It does not matter how you meant it, I find it a good idea." Hermione eyed Harry, looking for signs on how he found the idea. "How about you, Harry?"

He smiled as he looked at his female friend, nodding in the process.

* * *

They were welcomed back by a lively Fleur. The Veela's smile said everything: she had been worrying the whole time about Hermione.

"Perfect timing. Ze soup iz almost ready to be served." Fleur had a playful sparkle in her eyes as she glanced at Ron. "You have wonderful timing when it comes to food, Ronald." Hermione giggled and Harry could not hide his grin as the redhead in question gaped at Fleur. _Is he really surprised that Fleur figured it is thanks to him that we are in time? _They all wondered.

"If you want to refresh yourself, zen do it fast," Fleur said, "I am going to call ze others."

The three did not have to think about the proposal as they raced upstairs, for the last one to arrive in the bathroom would be the slowest donkey of the world, so said Harry.

The lunch was enjoyed with small talk. Hermione kept to the background, her exhaustion settling in. When all were done with their lunch, everyone went their own way. Hermione chose to take a siesta on the couch in the living room. Closing her eyes as she laid down, the brunette concentrated on creating the needed wall inside her mind. Next time, she wanted it to be impossible for Harry to penetrate her mind.

The Muggle-born imagined how strong walls were built around a castle and its garden. A stone wall with beautiful stones the colour of sand and the grey tones of a wolf pelt. The colours created a harmonious colour palette. When the basis was set, Hermione shifted her concentration to the garden. She would polish the walls later on. As Hermione looked at the garden, it was only a simple grass field but she created a whole labyrinth in it. Even if one was able to crush through her walls, they would be faced with an intricate maze of useless information. She doubted the Death Eaters would care that she used to not only read books but play the piano as well when she was younger. She made it so quotes like, "Not all who wander are lost" from Tolkien would appear in this maze, precisely because one is always lost in a labyrinth. However the brunette had sunken so far into her own world that she was surprised to hear another voice.

"You know, when most people try to sleep zey 'ave to relax." The brunette didn't bother opening her eyes; she knew Fleur said that with a smile.

"I tried, but it is hard when you are building a psychological barrier against other prying minds. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Hmm, zat sounds pretty difficult indeed." Fleur walked over to the couch and took Hermione's head gently in her hands, sliding her lap under the brunette's head as she nestled herself comfortably on the couch. Without further thoughts, Fleur summoned her book with an "_Accio_" and began reading where she had left off the other day, all the while stroking wild brown curls with a calming hand.

"Thanks."

Fleur found the murmur unnecessary but decided to say nothing in response. A frightened child could easily be soothed by a gentle touch, and it was obvious to the older witch that Hermione needed this, even if she was no longer a child.

* * *

The Muggle-born had been able to create her fort in precise detail. Everything was the way she thought would be best against intruders. Sleep, however, had never welcomed her in those hours. Not that Hermione had expected it to, but where would the world be without hope? Instead, she had slipped into a mystical land between sleep and full consciousness.

_Was meditation the answer? Could meditation be an useful replacement for sleep?_ Hermione doubted she could function for a few days with only meditation as rest source, but she could always try. _For the sake of… I am turning into a hippie before I can blink twice._ Constricted brows showed her dislike for the mere idea.

Stretching her body by clawing the air above her head, Hermione walked out of the house and searched for Harry and Ron. Fleur walked silently beside the brunette. Because of Ron's idea from earlier that day that the others should join their duels, Hermione had taken the liberty to invite the blonde.

The redhead was not difficult to find; he had been busy repairing the old barn with his older brother and Dean. Harry was a whole other story; he had only been seen now and then throughout the day, staring at his Snitch, thinking and murmuring. But now he was nowhere to be found.

They were already dueling for an hour and a half when Harry returned from the dunes, together with Luna.

"Hey, starting without me?! That is not fair," he waved at the group with a smile. Without a further word, he took his wand and joined the duel. Luna sat down next to Dean off to a side, the two watching the spells fly to and fro.

"Hello, how have the duels been going?"

Dean spoke with a bit frustration in his voice, "I have not been able to win once! Well, I did win against Ron three times, but the others are impossible to defeat."

"Oh, now that you mention him, where_ is _Ronald?" Luna looked around but the young man was not here.

"Erm, he went inside the house, saying that he was going to get a drink of water… But I get the feeling that he's just coping with his losses." Dean tensed. He felt partly responsible. The blonde next to him saw it, but said nothing. Dean got the impression that, either way, it did not matter much to her, leaving him to feel even more awkward. He really did not know what to say, so he stood up and told her that he would look for Ron. Luna continued watching the four duelers and soon found herself joined by the brunette.

"Pfff, I am exhausted," Hermione said as she let herself fall to the sand, lying on her back and rubbing her face with her hands. She looked up at the other witch who was still watching the others. "Why did you not join the duel like Harry?" she asked, turning on her side propping her head on her hand.

"Dean seemed to feel lonely, so I thought that I could sit next to him," came a simple answer.

"If I may ask, where have you been with Harry?"

At this Luna looked at Hermione, the corners of her mouth going upwards ever so slightly. "Your eyes shine with a genuine curiosity, but your shifting body says something different. I detect a tiny bit of jealousy, am I correct?"

Hermione was stunned, her cheeks burning. She had not been aware of the feelings herself, but now that Luna pointed it out…

The blonde, however, did not give the Muggle-born any time to respond, "I was searching for seeds when I encountered Harry walking around in the woods by himself. We walked together some more and talked about a lot. Mostly about Dumbledore. He also asked me what I think about the Deathly Hallows."

"I am not jealous," Hermione pouted, while focusing her eyes upon the dueling figures. She sat up to get a better view. Fleur was keeping Harry vigilant with every step he took; the Veela was fast with her spells, _that_ Hermione had experienced at first hand.

Luna laughed at the childish tone of the brunette, brightening Hermione's mood as well. In the silence that followed, they saw how William disarmed his wife once he came to join them. A grin spread around Hermione's lips. She would definitely be teasing the quarter Veela about this later.

"It is so strange, Luna. It was obvious from the start that she does not stand a chance, yet Fleur hasn't been doing anything else other than showing off. Did she really think that she could win?"

Fleur rolled her eyes as the taunt reached her ears, while trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably. "Oh, a little cocky, are we?" the quarter Veela responded, bumping her shoulder in Hermione's when she sat down.

"I do not know what you are talking about," she said blinking innocently and receiving a soft tap on the cheek as answer.

"Aww, did I hit a sore spot?"

" 'a! You wish!"

Luna watched the exchange. Her eyes scanned them curiously as if they were open books.

Fleur suddenly changed the topic. "Let's ambush the two," she said and waved vaguely towards Bill and Harry.

"But they are in the mid –" Hermione spluttered.

"Hermione, Death Eaters are not people who play fair," Luna pointed out, "It is only realistic. Unfair it is, but realistic all the same."

A little embarrassed at her own naivety, Hermione stood and nodded. "You are right, let's kick some ass!" And with that the three charged forth with wands drawn. The brunette laughed openly at Harry's shocked expression as she shot a warning spell towards his feet.

"That's not fair ladies!" Bill shouted as he deflected Fleur's jinxes.

" 'ush _mon loup, _what made you zink we would go easy on you?"

As the duel took place, each tried to take a leading role, but no one was able to achieve it. Without any planning between the duelers, they unconsciously arranged themselves into two groups: the classic boys versus girls. With a greater number of women, it was no surprise that they had the men cornered pretty quickly, yet eliminating them proved to be difficult. And when Ron and Dean turned up to rescue their fellow males, the females knew that it would take a little more before they could celebrate their triumph.

As an automatism Hermione, who was not aware of her own tactics in the slightest, turned towards Ron and disarmed him with no difficulty. He had held his own against several of her spells but he had overlooked a few cleverly cast _Expelliarmuses_, one of which hit the target. Not bothering to think about it for a second, Hermione focused on the others again. However, her proceedings were disrupted by an angry shout.

"Bloody hell, Hermione! What is your problem?!"

The brunette stilled the spells on her tongue she had planned for Bill, turning around to face the younger redhead instead with a look of surprise. "What did I do?"

"You know perfectly well!" Ron was fuming.

Hermione did not care for his attitude at all and narrowed her eyes as irritation flared up inside her.

He continued, "Every time we start a new duel you are determined to – "

"How dare you accuse me that I purposely rule you out as first?! I merely try to win!"

"Without playing fair! You won't even give me one chance!"

"That is called _tactic_, Ronald. One eliminates her targets one by one, defeating the weakest first!" The sentence was voiced before she could bite it down. When she realized what she had said, her eyes widened. "I did not mean to... I am so – "

"Shut up!" he shouted at her and stormed away. Pain and anger rising inside him.

Hermione could not do much more than just stand there, staring at his back. _Why did I have to say that?_ The question circled through her brain several times before she looked away from his diminishing figure. Shame flushed her cheeks and her eyes were teary.

A hand was placed on her shoulder and with a little squeeze, the owner asked for her attention. Brown eyes met green ones.

"Don't mind him," his voice sounded a bit off, as if he was not so sure of what he was saying, "he will come around." Then Harry made his way after Ron, who had disappeared around the corner of the Cottage.

In that moment, Hermione felt incredible lonely. Things would always end up this way. After a fight with Ron, Harry would first come to her, reassure her that everything would be fine in no time but after that he would leave her alone to go after their mutual friend. The dark haired boy was probably not even aware of the state he left Hermione in every time, but it hurt nonetheless. Every time the pain returned to the same spot inside her, gnawing at her flesh, filling her with the emptiness only guilt, irritation and fear could create. Guilt for her part of the fight; irritation at Ron's stupid behavior and his faults, but worst of all was the fear that she maybe had lost one (or two) of her best friends ever.

Her shoulders slumped, her eyes finding the sand incredibly interesting all of a sudden. Hugging her own torso, Hermione could not help a few tears rolling down her cheeks but she quickly wiped them away with her sleeve. Sighing, she looked up again, trying her hardest to keep her head held high. "If you will excuse me I think that I will withdraw to the Cottage."

The others had stopped dueling as the argument had taken place, watching the whole scene develop without interrupting, which was something the Muggle-born had been aware of. Fleur was the only one who responded with a nod. She looked worried, but Hermione did not give a damn. Not giving the others a second glace, the Muggle-born walked towards Shell Cottage.

She felt beaten to the bone. The boys were her psychological support. She relied on them with everything even before the Horcrux hunt had begun. Now their support was gone, or at least Ron's was. _Harry was not mad at her,_ a voice kept repeating in her head, but Ron… _Once again, it was Ron who ran away. Only this time it was because of me..._With her words, she had practically killed any confidence he had. _His sore spot._

Shaking her head, the Muggle-born headed up the stairs, but did not stop on the second floor. No. She wanted, _needed,_ to have company - someone to talk to, someone she could ask questions - so that she could occupy her brain with something other than her personal drama. The door to her right, that was the chamber which was occupied by Mister Ollivander. The room to her left was occupied by Griphook.

Knocking on the door, Hermione waited for a response. The silence was deafening. _Is he sleeping? Should I knock a second time?_ A little out of her comfort zone, Hermione decided to knock one more time. This time there came noise from the other side of the door, shuffling. The door creaked open as a small man opened it, his greasy hair sprouting in all directions. With watery eyes the old man smiled warmly at her. He looked much older from when she had bought her wand all those years ago.

"Ah, Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise! I was wondering when I would see one of the youngsters, until now the only one who visited me was Fleur. She probably scared you off for my well-being; she is a bit too concerned if you ask me..." His voice, on the other hand, had not changed at all. "But do not think I do not appreciate it, no, she is a kind woman. She reminds me of an old friend of mine... I wonder how she is doing..." He trailed off but returned to the conversation again with a smile. "When the war is over, I shall write her again."

_How is it possible that everybody is already assuming that we will win?!_ The thought was irritating and made Hermione frown for a second. Luckily, Ollivander was not aware of it. His ramblings went on until he noticed she was still standing by the door while he was already sitting in his chair. He halted in the middle of his sentence and looked at her expectantly.

After a few moments of silence the brunette started politely "Good day, sir. I was wondering if I could ask some questions?"

"Of course, dear. I thought that was already obvious." He beckoned her to come and sit opposite of him, "Come on in. Make yourself comfortable while you do so. I hope you do not mind the open window?"

Shaking her head, Ollivander smiled pleased. Hermione inspected the whole room before sitting down, again unaware of her own behavior.

"Since the moment you walked out of my shop with your newly bought wand, I wondered when I would see you again."

"Why would you say that, sir?" The brunette asked surprised.

"Ha! I like to surprise people," he grinned, "but nothing I said was untrue."

_Is he teasing me, or had his stay at Malfoy Manor maddened him? I wonder how old he is, should look that up when I have the time.. And the books._

After he had closed his eyes once, twice, thrice Ollivander began to talk. A faint smile still evident on his face. "A wand has its own magic, its own _energy._ And it is the wand who chooses its witch or wizard. But you already know that, am I right, dear?" Without waiting for an answer he continued, "But what you do not know is what I am going to tell you now. I am going to tell you about a few facts that are only known by wandmakers, so I want to be assured that you are not going to tell anybody else. Can I trust you on your word?"

Hermione sat on the edge of her chair. This was not what she had expected, but her curiosity had been sparked. Nodding furiously, the Muggle-born watched the old man closely and, without a second thought, silently cast a Muffliato Charm. A knowing twinkle found Ollivander's eyes.

Still his voice was barely a whisper when he spoke, "Thank you. You shall be rewarded with a glimpse of the knowledge from this old wandmaker." The little joke passed unnoticed by the brunette while she sat, leaning forward in anticipation. "One cannot become a wandmaker, one _is_ a wandmaker. It is in their blood, their DNA, their being. So it is probably of no surprise to you that it is often whole lineages of families who practice the profession. In most occasions, the parents can see that their child has the required skills early in the child's life. The child in question starts with the education as soon as possible, practically from the moment the parents are sure the child is able to be the next wandmaker. This causes the creation of wands to become a second nature for them. They do not know better. And do not want to either. Because, strangely enough, there is something in the DNA that can be described as a pull towards the wandlore. A natural weakness for that peculiar profession. Don't look at me like that, dear, it is no illness! All of us are blessed with a gift that few others have. At least, that is how we see it. One could compare it to the weakness a bookworm has for books and knowledge, something you should understand."

"I do not want to be rude, sir, but you have yet to answer my question..."

"You are completely right, Miss Granger. It is very simple actually. With the passing years, a wandmaker learns to 'read' the wands they create. How we are able to do so is also thanks to the energy a wand possesses. Our knowledge and observation of the human being has to be sharp and accurate as well. We need to be able to understand what sort of wand compliments the skills and personality traits of a witch or wizard. Simply put, we need to know that A+B=Q. Wandmakers are the ones that must see the little things. We have to be able to bring wand and master together, to help them to recognize one another."

"But sir –"

"Yes, you are right, you still have to hear what I meant." He took a breath, "When I first saw you, your family background was unknown to me, so I knew you were either a Muggle-born or a half-blood. Because in the wandlore, one has to know all the pureblood families by heart and recognize most of the outer characteristics. A wandmaker often does good research beforehand, keeping the start of a new trimester in mind. But going back to your first entrance in my shop... I had to analyse your behavior with care. I only needed a minute to see your intelligence; your curious eyes, the questions you asked, your choice in words, your eager, yet innocent smile. A Dragon Heartstring was perfect for you!" Ollivander's serious attitude had turned into one of joy. He was reliving the memory with a faraway look in his eyes.

"However every wand I thought would be perfect for you seemed to disagree with me, until I found yours. Yet I could not believe it choose you. Because the wand was already an old one. It had been in my shop for years and all signs said that it only had several years left in it. I do not know _how_ the wands are able to give us these signs, but they somehow can. Maybe it is fate that is woven into the core and wood of a wand? Well, only Merlin knows, I guess. One thing I can tell you with all my honesty, dear, is that wands are _always_ right. It can only be the wandmaker who is wrong."

"Sir, I can't believe you… I don't _want_ to believe you." She shook her head in disbelief. "My wand is really gone?" Ollivander had just put a definitive stop to her hopes. He had crushed them with his words. The mere idea hurt her more than she had anticipated.

Ollivander's eyebrows crunched together as his sad eyes looked over at the sea, nodding only once, as if acknowledging it was hurting him as well.

_It probably does,_ Hermione thought. She straightened herself, but her shoulders hung, giving away how she truly felt: forlorn. Her voice was soft but sounded broken nonetheless, "But I do not want another.." It took the brunette a while before she had found the strength to speak again, "How can you be so sure?"

"I wish I could tell you something different, dear..." For a moment he looked unsure, but a weak smile spread across his lips. "The pain is something I cannot take away with just a promise, but I want you to know that I would be honored to help you in your search for a new wand when the war is over. And if I am still among the living."

"Thank you, I will probably accept your offer." For now it was merely a hollow promise.

_Who knows, maybe I will be dead by then..._

"Could I ask you one last thing?"

A nod.

"How is it possible that I am able to make the wand from _Bellatrix Lestrange_ obey my will? The spells are not as I am used to and the accuracy is something I need to keep working on. The wand is also cold towards my grip, but other than that it could likely have been a borrowed wand from a _friend_. Next to that, I always thought that, with the passage of time, both wizard and wand attached themselves to one another - that a forced separation unsettles both to an extent with no limits, the result being that the wand would prove an unstable source for directing magic for any other individual."

"To me, it is of no surprise that you can handle this wand. The wood of this wand is from a Walnut tree, a peculiar sort. Not as unpredictable as the Black Walnut, but that aside, Walnut wood is known for its high demand of intelligence and skill. You have both, much like Miss Lestrange. Nonetheless, you are mostly right about your assumptions: wands tend to dislike working with other individuals. Or, and you were also right about that, those new individuals have to be dear to the original wand owner." With a puzzled look on his face the wandmaker bit on the words. The following he had intended to say was a bit unsettling. Even he found it a slightly bit troublesome. Ollivander's look became one of a grumpy house troll as he averted his stare towards the sky.

There was a storm coming; dark clouds were gathering on the horizon. Shaking his head, he said to himself that that was nothing to think about right now. He debated with himself as to how he should voice the following to his companion. Ollivander chose the flight route. "As you can see, I have difficulty deciding what or what not to say. Would I be asking too much of your patience if I said I need more time to think about the answer? Without knowing it, you just asked me to tell you how I can understand most individuals within twenty-four hours - a gift and technique that is common in the wandlore, but also a very tough subject. Then there is the matter of how you would react to the answer... I cannot decide if you would take it with a frown or if you would storm right out of the room." With his thin fingers Ollivander traced his own jawline while deep in thoughts.

In surprise of the sudden chance, Hermione blinked several times. All she could do was send the older man a questioning look. She wanted to protest but her manners kept her from doing so. Instead she nodded, leaning back into her chair. "I understand. Don't feel obliged to tell me sir. It has been a wonderful surprise and a honor that you shared so much information with me. I could not have hoped for more."

He smiled, happy that she understood.

Standing up, the Muggle-born made her way towards the door, but turned before opening it. "I think that Harry, Ron and I will leave within a week. For now I wish you a good night. I think I am going to bed. I am exhausted."

His warm smile returned to his lips, "Please do not forget to place the counter spell, dear. And you are welcome here. Do not be shy about visiting for questions."

Wishing him a good night again, Hermione left the room. Beside the wandmaker and the Goblin, there were no other people inside the house. Sighing, Hermione got ready for bed. There was nothing she wanted more at the moment than sleep. Her muscles had become sore from all the intense training and she opted for a shower and a hot cup of tea did wonders as well. It felt as if she had transformed from a tense Bludger into a slumped pudding. She was had become drowsy as could be.

Leaving a note on the table telling the others that she was sleeping, Hermione went upstairs and nestled herself in bed. She was exhausted, but she did not let herself get dragged into the nightmare. Her desire for a good night's rest made her take a gulp of the Sleeping Draught that stood on her bedside table. She put the bottle back safely just in time before the dreamless sleep had wrapped its arms safely around her.

Hermione did not wake until late in the morning. Stretching, she felt how stiff her body had gotten after all the exercise from the other day. Looking around the brunette could count herself lucky that she was alone in the room. She was still not able to think about anything to say to Ron. With caution, she sought her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and splash some water in her face. When the Muggle-born thought the coast was clear, she made her way down to the kitchen. Finding Fleur sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in her hand, the quarter Veela looked at her.

"Good morning, _ma cherie_" she said with a smile, "I thought you would be waking soon. Do you want a cup of tea?"

Hermione responded with a smile of her own and walked towards her dear friend.


End file.
